Good Friday: Breath and Bones

Good Friday always finds me lacking, or running, or desperate to “catch up.”  So, in an effort to dial things back a notch and at the same time, dig in to the quiet moments of a crazy life, I’ll just offer this today. I offer it because poetry has the ability to reach those deep places in me no matter what the circumstances of my life. And I want to connect with…

For those who have fallen- Lenten Regrets

  Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave. —St John Chrysostom It is always here, in the dark of Good Friday just before Pascha, that I find all the regret I have stored up over the years. It’s a pressing lie, heavy and persistent. It sounds right to me in the dark. It sounds reasonable and clear, repeating over and over,…

Good Friday: this floating space

I’m suspended here, in this floating space just before Pascha, in the air, in the water, it’s hard to explain. Before I have coffee in the morning there’s that groggy brain poking through, telling me I have to get up, get going, get things done but I’m not really listening. It’s automatic now, this waking up at 6am whether I need to be up or not. And so I get up, stretch…

great and holy friday…

Probably it will last another 10 minutes, maybe only 8 or so. This morning quiet spot, after prayer and lighting candles, coffee in hand, reflecting on what lies ahead and I’m struck with some grief. And maybe that’s appropriate, this being Holy Week and all. Being so far out of step with the western calendar puts me in an odd place. There is something powerful about having all the accountability, the cultural…