Today I Am a Rebel
Today, I am a rebel. I forget about the laundry and dishes. I turn all my phones to silent And write. Yesterday, I cared what
Today, I am a rebel. I forget about the laundry and dishes. I turn all my phones to silent And write. Yesterday, I cared what
Why am I here and not there? I am HERE because I have been THERE. Been there, done it, have the diplomas to prove
God of ages has called me to the Second Mile, To walk with my sisters through the Valley. I pray for the strength and the
Light shines from a thousand prisms, hung on golden filigree, above the hall below, where sheltered men wear sheltering talitot
I saw the angels. God’s holy angels. It’s all I used to talk about: Angels and the baby with the tired young mother. It was
Each drop of blood on the road to Golgotha was matched with a thousand tears of mine. I, who held Christmas in my body, saw
I CREATOR/CONQUEROR/COMFORTER II One God—when no one else—sufficient. One Love, created us, proficient. Our wills, returning love, deficient. One Sacrifice applied, efficient. III
When I saw my cousin again, I had walked all day, my ankles swollen like my feet. Her bright eyes made my journey worth it.
In 1664, a young Puritan minister named John Cotton Jr. was found guilty of “lascivious unclean practices with three women.”1 Mr. Cotton was a Harvard
Jewels come in unexpected settings. Take Corinth in ancient Greece: more rock than mineral. Rocks piled into rude temples to designer gods. Rocks hewn out