Wine for Those Who Faint
By Essay Issue 68
I DECIDED that if I was going to read the Hebrew Bible, I was going to read the whole thing. Every word of it. No skipping over or skimming the genealogies, the instructions for building the temple, or the details of animal sacrifice. I bopped through the intricate plots of Genesis and Exodus, my rule…
Read MoreBreath
By Essay Issue 71
The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit. —————————————John 3:8 THE SUMMER OF 1968, though it mourned the recent assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and shuddered at the murder…
Read MoreThe Manifestation
By Poetry Issue 75
The night of the Perseid shower, thick fog descended but I would not be denied. I had put the children to bed, knelt with them, and later in the quiet kitchen as tall red candles burned on the table between us, I’d listened to my wife’s sweet imprecations, her entreaties to see a physician. But…
Read MoreInfantile Paralysis
By Poetry Issue 85
Dismayed by the murder of Pakistani healthcare workers for vaccinating children against polio, I recall the dread that darkened my childhood before Salk proved the power of killed virus to halt infantile paralysis, the summer scourge. I also recall a girl, held upright by braces the rest of her life, one of six to fall…
Read MoreElegy for a Microbe Hunter
By Poetry Issue 85
There is no way we can thank him, other than not to forget him. But we do not trust our resolve, having to look up his name. Even the name of the virus fades from our minds as strange microbes evolve and spread in Guangdong, driving out old fears with new. SARS, a benign sounding…
Read MoreThe Microbiome and the Boson
By Poetry Issue 85
After Psalm 139 If humans are ninety percent bacteria, then “I”—a consortium—pray for help in keeping me all together. My microbiome is such a swarm of bits and pieces that statistical analyses can’t prove I am. Replete with coding errors and mutations, I am fearfully and wonderfully provisional. Mitochondria, packing their own genome, reside in…
Read MoreProdigal Body
By Poetry Issue 85
Once while I was walking, a man called out to me. He was slender, sitting on the grass with a racing bike beside him. He said, Would you believe a year ago I weighed three hundred pounds? I shook my head, and he said, Nobody else will believe me either. His body showed at once…
Read MoreSaint Francis Considers His Own Advice after Finishing a Chaplaincy Shift at Mercy Memorial Hospital
By Poetry Issue 84
If you have no voice after reading Rumi to a dying man you hardly know, this is a good and timely thing. Pay attention. If you’ve sworn to stay at the hospital for two days, end up staying ten, you are the wind that rocks me forward. There are lights in the city…
Read MoreIdeal Marriage
By Short Story Issue 81
THROUGH A WARMING NIGHT the ice dams on the Big Slough thawed, and in the morning the first robins, antic in their hunt for worms, hopped in the south yard. Freddie Cahill’s spirit, dormant through what had seemed the longest winter of the eighty-some she’d spent on earth, stirred once again to meet the season’s…
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