I think of Joe, our cat, who, in the years before he died of old age in 2015, would sit in peace behind the house and look off into space as he listened to the birds and the squirrels making their rounds. Finally, after a very short illness, which of course was no illness at all, death took hold of him and shook him from head to tail, and wrung […]
The text ends here, gives way to a whisper. The congregation dies in a song. The sermon is an old man planting flowers. The earth and the sky hum along. ~ [ 2098 ]
I’m one of the crazy people who know — yes, know — peace is possible in my lifetime. I also know that the only time peace is possible is now. Something else I know: peace is not possible if I’m not at peace myself. The rest — is simple mathematics. ~ [ 2097 ]
Peeling an onion — no one should die in a war — fingers turning red. ~ [ 2096 ]
A crowded boat — stop paddling! — love’s at the bottom of the falls. ~ [ 2095 ]
Grumbling tendon — I loosen my grip on the honey jar — on life, too. ~ [ 2094 ]
Left foot, right foot . . . home from a walk, the quiet of a power outage. ~ [ 2093 ]
A smile and a hug from my father — spring comes again to the farm. ~ [ 2092 ]
Knowledge, memory, religion, belief, no belief — may they sit lightly upon you, like dew on a dove’s wing. ~ [ 2091 ]
William Michaelian 