The Line
A channel, a conduit, a portal, a pathway, a hollow bone — each carry something, allowing it to pass through. A line, a thread — they pull what is moving through me. Whose line am I holding? I begin with my own. I look just like my father, whose name I carry, and whose legacy I hold. My […]
A Suffering Love
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” This old saying echoed around my childhood and most likely yours. And it’s a bold faced lie. Of the painful words I can still remember, cast in stone ages ago, the scars remain. I read them in my body like braille. In my work […]
Underneath
Beneath the feet of the monks, that which holds them and their houses of prayer, is this land. Mepkin Abbey, a Trappist monastery on the coast of South Carolina, is where we’re on retreat. The land of my childhood. Beneath the years of their prayerful songs, as old as my dad, there is that which will outlast […]
The Angel’s Call
I’m writing on the winter solstice, the longest night of the year. A wise time to go within… to listen for the crisp call of angels. As the light fades to gray, a bright red bird perches in a dark, barren tree. Now, all things are more easily seen. The air leans hard against us, heavy and […]
