Noah’s brother and son in law each take one of Noah’s arms. If they were to let go even for a moment, he would fall into the open grave from sheer anguish.
As the first scoop of dirt hits his son’s casket, Noah drops to his knees and he moans, almost as a whisper —or an afterthought. The sound that passes from his lips is unearthly.
Fear/Loss/Death/Prayer/Faith/Love. This is a small poem about big things.
Sometimes it is through loss that we come to discovery.
Sarah Tuttle-Singer tells a gut-wrenching story about the moments after her mother died, and the man she met briefly who transformed her experience.
Eli found a mysterious, anonymous love note in her bag in Jerusalem. Where did it come from?
Inertia, self-imposed or otherwise, is among the most challenging things for a human being. We were designed to remain in motion. Even sleep is a form of movement. Resisting change however, is its opposite.
