The unarmored
shoes she dons
leave space in the toe
for a soul. A phantom
hanging on her thigh
slips past
the mind’s
control.
Circles she’s in
wheel slowly.
She cracks jokes that go over
like lead.
The flag once borne
on a shoulder
now fatigues a frame
by her bed.
Eyes that once
were beside
watch her recede
into light; pills
the VA prescribed
count down
like rounds
in a fight.
The Fallacy of Private Religion
Catholic Twitter recently enjoyed a rare moment of unity when Labour MP Chris Coghlan used the platform…
An Open Letter to the Bishops of Latin America
Fr. Clodovis M. Boff, OSM, was a leading figure in the development of liberation theology before emerging…
Ireland Erases Its Catholic Inheritance
The findings of a recent survey commissioned by Ireland’s Iona Institute for Religion and Society have shed…