Most evenings I’d meet Daniel right in front
Of City Hall, to walk home for our meal
On Rue Domat, just westward of Rue Dante.
We’d stroll across the bridges, always steal
A glance at militaires patrolling there
In threes (in Charlie Hebdo days), while high
Above the gardens and above the Square—
Irregularity inverting sky
And parvis, Île and river to a shape
Which hovered round—the building’s lofty stance,
Defined both space and time, which wove a drape
To soften Notre Dame’s indifference.
It made us feel rock solid, think we knew
A way of being centered, staying true.
—William Flesch
Image by Juanedc via Creative Commons.
The Church of Ratzinger (ft. Sam Zeno Conedera)
In this episode, Sam Zeno Conedera joins R. R. Reno on The Editor’s Desk to talk about…
Pelvic Theology, Pelvic Justice
In a recent New York Times guest essay, Catholic writer David Gibson praised Pope Leo for moving…
Can These Bones Live?
The Saturday after Easter, on a cloudless morning, I fell and shattered my left elbow while taking…