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Prayer

Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Without Ceasing

You never grew tired of watching her work. You loved the hum of the machine, the sawdust that stuck to her sleeve, and how she bent her head over the wood like something swan. You knew she was sharing something intimate with you. You were witnessing prayer.

By Sophie Ezzell May 2022
The Dog-Eared Page

Riding Out At Evening

At dusk, everything blurs and softens. / From here out over the long valley, / the fields and hills pull up / the first slight sheets of evening, / as, over the next hour,  / heavier, darker ones will follow.

By Linda McCarriston February 2022
One Nation, Indivisible

January 2021

Featuring Bill McKibben, Rebecca McClanahan, Derrick Jensen, and more.

December 2020
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Just This Breath

I can’t see the virus, but I feel its seeds in me. I can’t see my faith, but I feel its seeds in me, too.

By Heather Sellers June 2020
Poetry

Selected Poems

Hearing that old phrase “a good death,” / which I still don’t exactly understand,  / I’ve decided I’ve already / had so many,  I don’t need another.

By Tony Hoagland December 2018
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Lonely Girl’s Guide To The Cosmos

There isn’t really a reset button for life — a switch you can hit, after you’ve gone through something terrible, that lets you go back to the beginning and start over. But there should be.

By Alethea Black November 2018
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Reverence

I bow to the pencil, the pencil maker, the tree that gave its wood, the graphite that fills its core, and the mind that conceived pencil. I bow to all the teeth and jaws that have chewed pencils out of boredom or nervousness.

By Mary Roy November 2018
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

The Wrong Imam

If we could have been inside his heart, if we could have been offered transportation from our Jerusalem to his heaven, this is what we might have absorbed: Abkar was not leading us in prayer. He was talking to God while we happened to be behind him, squeezed in so tightly we could hardly find places for our foreheads on flawless plush carpet.

By Haroon Moghul December 2017