I'd hear Mom groan, The Messiah, again?

It's already late—where is the feast inside?

today I learn for the first time the inside of a girl’s hair, to brush the hair beneath the hair.

During Advent a few years ago, I composed meditations each morning on the day’s scriptural readings as I experienced the season. This Advent journal was my experiment, my practice as a writer and a seeker, to anchor myself before each day pulled me in all its directions. I began with Scripture

Then the Lord stretched out His hand and touched my mouth...

In our global digital age, what can poetry and the arts do?

O unnamed & only son too soon slipped from tender clutch of unripe body

So easy to mistake him for the crucifier,