The internet may be a gift from God,
As the Pope says, a utility
We can manipulate but not see,
Neither tangible nor abstract, an odd
Reality we can demonstrate
But not touch, invisible as space
But informing all around us. Like grace?
Something we use but never really understand.
At meetings now, before our working day begins,
We sit with our heads bowed and stare,
Backlit breviaries in hand,
Rocking in a pantomime of prayer.
—Patrick Duddy
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
How to Belong Without Losing Oneself
Whenever someone like Candace Owens or Nick Fuentes posts “ragebait,” it’s not difficult to predict how my…
Can These Bones Live?
The Saturday after Easter, on a cloudless morning, I fell and shattered my left elbow while taking…
Paul Celan’s Via Negativa
In the twentieth century the messengers shot themselves. Most did so metaphorically, of course, though a few…
