“Noah . . . sent forth a raven; and it went to and fro until
the waters were dried up from the earth”
”Genesis 8:6
He loosed the window latch
And then he loosened me,
My grim cavort
The first report,
Now made belatedly.
From gopher wood and thatch
I plied by eye and wing,
The ruffled weather,
Wave and feather,
Black from the sea winds fling.
Yet there was nothing there
But fountains of the deep
And heaven’s wells
Washing great swells
Of salt the drowning weep.
Then hunting everywhere
Below a rounding moon
I felt my screech
Grow Eden speech
We shared in that long noon
Whose fallen silent leaves
With Adam’s clacking bones
Are swept through seas
My singing frees
From brine’s dumb undertones.
And though a dove retrieves
From olives on the heights
Her leaf and lands
In Noah’s hands
To coo away wild frights
And though she be the high
Meek queen of that new realm
Of peace and love,
The Holy Dove
No flood will overwhelm,
By foaming star tides I
Still fly unsounded ground
That Noah’s sweat
Makes fertile yet,
This raven dark profound.
Why Women Cannot Be Deacons
Much has recently been written about the possibility of the Church sacramentally ordaining women to the diaconate.…
What Protestants Get Wrong About the Epistle to the Hebrews
The Epistle to the Hebrews proclaims the superiority of the new to the old, the second to…
Mind the Gap
I grew up in a religiously sympathetic, if not always actively practicing, household. During my toddler years, my…