In a garden in the desert there was a tree. She was beautiful, lush and healthy and growing with a swiftness unknown to most desert
I’ve begun rereading Exodus for my devotions and am struck again and again by the motifs that are fulfilled in Christ, often in unexpected ways.
Dear Readers, I recently had the honor of being published in The Journal of the T.S. Eliot Society of the United Kingdom. While I cannot
Horrors.There is no other wordFor the things I have seen,And sat helplessly by—Useless. My own son, ripped from my armsBy a force I could not
Touch me, someone,That I might know you’re there! Greet me, anyone,So I am not aloneIn this dark, dark, darkness. I am begging,Begging for more than
I cannot tellWhat these gestures mean.Why do you all waveYour hands at me? I can only guess atThe words on your lipsAnd can only makeVain attemptsTo