“joys that sting” by c.s. lewis “oh do not die,” says donne, “for i shall hate all women so.” how false this sentence rings. women? but in a life made desolate it is the joys once shared that have the stings. to take the old walks alone, or not at all, to order one pint ...
recently, i have found myself coming across lines of poetry that just stop me. some i have heard before; some are new. but they have made me stop. maybe it’s the simple complexity of the thought, or maybe it’s the sheer beauty of the lines? maybe, for that moment, the stanzas capture what i was ...
we never had much in common. i never truly knew him. now, three embraces later and a peck on the cheek, he tells me he is proud of me. twenty-three. as young as me. they sent him of to war. a comment’s made that he would change. thoughts shout no. (naivety.) i just learned more ...
For the gladness here where the sun is shining at evening on the weeds at the river, Our prayer of thanks. For the laughter of children who tumble barefooted and bareheaded in the summer grass, Our prayer of thanks. For the sunset and the stars, the women and the white arms that hold us, Our ...
dad and i sang in church on sunday. i always love singing with him. i always love the songs that we choose to sing. i’m beginning to find it ironic how every song takes its place in my life– how i don’t realize how much i need the message of the songs we sing until ...