In Order That I Might Live

You know the way the wind begins to shift direction once the earth tilts boldly towards the sun How the orange light becomes all liquid Pooling where once there was shadow Its abundance spilling further and further into night And how slowly, the ground begins to rise Swelling with anticipation It is then I throw […]

When I Was A Child

By Amy Curran When I was a child, I thought like a child, I spoke like a child, I acted like a child. Now that I am grown, I have put my childish ways behind me. I have forgotten how to lie in the tall grass and watch it whisper above my head, telling stories […]

The Shouldering of Light

Yesterday I woke to light that burned orange through the curtain and birdsong that hung thick among the canopy Dawn was pushing hard through dense fog and the earth felt the strain profoundly and exquisitely In the stillness of that early morning while wrapped in a dull loneliness I recognized Her effort How even the […]

The Gate

“I had no idea, that the gate I would go through to finally enter this world would be the space my brother’s body made…” // For days now, that first line of Marie Howe’s poem “The Gate” has been echoing in my mind. Sometimes, my subconscious swaps out the word “brother” for “mother,” and I […]

Out Of the Garden

What they don’t tell you about faith is how often you will find yourself standing in your kitchen doing something supremely ordinary, while asking the most earth-shattering questions of your life. I thought that if I stopped going to church that I would spare myself the sting of the unanswerable, but instead, I’m standing at […]