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...

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

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

So easy to mistake him for the crucifier,