At Thomas Merton’s Grave by Spencer Reece We can never be with loss too long. Behind the warped door that sticks, the wood thrush calls to the monks, pausing upon the stone crucifix, singing: “I am marvelous alone!” Thrash, thrash
“Next Year in Jerusalem!” my brother reassured me, as I lamented our pandemic Easter. 2020 relentlessly exposed the myth of control I try to hide behind. Sometimes I fear the cracks in my spiritual, emotional, relational, and physical realms will
Before Lynette and I were married – like most young lovers, I suppose – I was certifiably nuts about her. Though we first knew each other as kids and had hung out together through much of our junior and senior
