A Poem by Scott Cairns
Love Lingers at a Locked Door
A Valentine’s Day Themed Reflection for Those Who Don’t Live in a Fairy Tale.
“A Story Unleashed”: Jesus Couldn’t Keep a Lid on the Gospel, and Neither Can We
Grappling with a Gospel that Stubbornly Defies Reduction
“Escape from Circumstances”: Dickinson in Quarantine
Take It from the Woman Who Self-Sequestered for Over Fifty Years
Human Being > Human Doing : A Favorite Piece of Spiritual Advice and Mary Oliver
“You Do Not Have to Be Good. / … Tell Me about Despair, Yours, and I Will Tell You Mine.”
On the shortness and uncertainty of life
“O God, whose days are without end, and whose mercies cannot be numbered: Make us, we pray, deeply aware of the shortness and uncertainty of human life…” (Book of Common Prayer, pg. 504)
There are no good words for
our collective destination. Apart
from tragic, untimely, too soon.
The wound at the heart of the world.
Another angel added; a road well walked.
Words won’t do now, not for this.
The living bear all the grief of those who
were and are and will one day die.
Our plans, kingdoms, minds fall flat
before the period at the end of each line.
We don’t hold the pen, our days will end.
Where then is mercy? Whither hope?
In the beginning was the Word
and the Word wept
for the world, for you, for untimely,
and too soon. The Word weeps still
with sea-born tears that wash over
again, again with each new sentence end.
The mercy is presence not relief.
Hope is a face, two hands, scarred feet.
A quiet stand at the doorway and entry in
to a place where to end is only to begin.
The Terrible Distance Between “Not” and “Yet”: On Family, Long-Distance
The following excerpt was taken from the new book by Mockingbird contributor Andrew Taylor-Troutman. The book is “Gently Between the Words: Essays and Poems,” available this month from Torchflame Books. There are, of course, many ways to be healthy, happy, and whole. As adults, my brother and I have made different choices about careers and […]
To Be Honest: Why It’s Hard (but Helpful) to Tell the Truth
“Before you print a poem, you should reflect on whether this verse could be of use to at least one person in the struggle with himself and with the world.” – Czeslaw Milosz Being honest is often a hard thing for me to do. I don’t actually mind it when someone prefaces their opinion with, […]
Distilled (still aging)
The following poem was written by Nathan F. Elmore
With special thanks to mezcal. I certainly didn’t find you.
Eight to twelve years, depending—
a hand
suddenly a blade
the heart stripped
every fire a thirst
What to Like about Like
This poetry review was written by Joey Jekel. What do translations of Homer, the Eurasian refugee crisis, blacksmithing, and Alice in Wonderland all have in common? They are all in the strange and pleasing ken of A. E. Stallings. A previous resident of Athens, Georgia and current resident of Athens, Greece, this contemporary poet and […]
Chewing Tinfoil, Wanting God: Christian Wiman’s He Held Radical Light
What is it we want when we can’t stop wanting? Christian Wiman’s new essays resist review. Reviews of art are always a strange effort, anyway. An exhibition of paintings or a play or a concert or a novel or a poem, all are experiences, experiences of difference—when our action is displaced but our hearts and […]
