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.
Sometimes it is through loss that we come to discovery.
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.
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.
Eli found a mysterious, anonymous love note in her bag in Jerusalem. Where did it come from?
Fear/Loss/Death/Prayer/Faith/Love. This is a small poem about big things.
