For joy like this, the only words I know
I’ve had to borrow from the other side:
knocked out, steamrollered, damn, I almost died,
familiar phrases for some crushing blow
that brings you to your knees. I’ve been laid low
by love, ground into dust by heaven’s wheels.
Funny how much like this rock bottom feels,
the tears, the weakness, and the letting go.
My blessing: May you, in your turn, break down
and lose your marbles. May you fall apart,
be smashed to smithereens and blown away,
scattered in all directions. May you drown.
May happiness make mincemeat of your heart;
and helpless, may you wring your hands and pray.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
War abroad. Socialists on the rise. AI upending human life. Endless uproar online. The modern attention economy doesn’t want readers — it wants users enslaved to the tyranny of the present.
First Things is the antidote: literary excellence, timeless truths, and a fixed point of reference in a culture that has lost its bearings.
But we can’t do it without readers like you.
Our goal: Raise $150,000 by November 1 to sustain First Things in the year ahead.
Your gift anchors readers in the permanent things.
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If you have any questions or would like more information, please contact Giovanni Del Piero, Director of the Editor’s Circle, at gdelpiero@firstthings.com or 212-627-1985.
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