Deity
April 14, 2018Who is he from the Sunday pulpit
acquiring the air of sins
with his lecture,
hell’s woes never hidden
Who is he from the Sunday pulpit
acquiring the air of sins
with his lecture,
hell’s woes never hidden
Firm as the mountains around us, Stalwart and brave we stand On the rock our fathers planted For us in this goodly land.— Ruth May Fox (no. 255, Hymns, 1985) One of my earliest memories is of my mother…
Came home from school Thursday about 7:30 absolutely exhausted but committed to writing a paper. Although I had planned to go to Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro that night, I forgot to get tickets before it…
He hung me next to the load of dripping clothes.
I was just a child! Couldn’t walk! Couldn’t talk!
Too frozen stiff to cry! But strong enough
to clench my monkey fists around the line.
I still can see the pomegranate bush.
I sit scrunched in a fetal position, my eyes tightly closed, savoring the womblike comfort of the playhouse. A spider is weaving its filmy home in one corner of the ceiling, and a fly has…
Tonight while combing my long dark hair,
Sprinkled with strands of white,
I am grateful for my legacy
And wish others would not look down
If I had children, I might name
them astrometeorological names:
Meridian, a girl. Zenith, a boy.
Eclipse, a pretty name for either one.
As one of many who have borrowed deeply from May Swenson’s art, in classrooms over the nation and abroad, I offer tribute to her respect for the wonder, the splendor, of every living thing she…
Once while I was wandering through my life, I had a need to say something. I’m not sure where this something came from, but opinions and observations grew on the interior walls of my mind…
As a journalist, I have learned secondhand about domestic violence, child abuse, mental health, and homicide. I have interviewed experts and victims; I have read and listened. I know that the names printed in the…