Tender gift
of lifting
one’s hands,
understanding
there’s a force
enforcing
that promise
sprung from
a distant source,
sweet resource
of laughter
and peace after
storms lift
and as swiftly
bright wings
singe us, singing.
Dumbfounded,
one’s bound
to become
one consumed.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Serial Liar, Serial Comma
How would you write a public letter that you know will become front-page news? Would you write…
Shakespeare Under Stalin’s Shadow
”We wish that we could pass this play over, and say nothing about it. All that we…
Roger Scruton’s Eternal Youth
In this episode, First Things senior editor Dan Hitchens joins R. R. Reno on The Editor’s Desk…