Good Friday
an offering
Calvary by Marie Howe
Someone hanging clothes on a line between buildings,
someone shaking out a rug from an open window
might have heard hammering, one or two blocks away
and thought little or nothing of it.
Elsewhere —
I plan to spend a weekend in my beloved Hudson Valley with Marie Howe this September. Join me?
“A life whose warp and weft threads both seemingly unbearable grief and, in moments like this, something like grace.” Philip Metres’ “Lessons on suffering from the outdoor stations of the Cross” in America.
I lived with my grandfather growing up: he was the steadiest force in shaping my personhood. I ache for all I’ll never know about him, for the more I could have done. Gab’s recent essay had me weeping — especially over the Desiderata reference, the first poem I ever remember loving, shared with me by my late uncle. Linking here with love.
Finally, “Trauma at the tomb” in The Christian Century by Danielle Tumminio Hansen: “How gauche would it be to bring down the mood at the parish Easter egg hunt with talk of big T and little t trauma? No one wants to hear it.”
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