Rejoice! But first: there’s the stockings to fill. Some products may be unavailable in stores, but this one ships before Christmas. Rejoice at same-day dispatch; rejoice that you’ve met your Kris Kringle requirements. When the presents are bought and the turkey is basting, when the family’s sleeping, rejoice.
Category Archives: Poetry
Poetic Translations: The King and the Maiden
One of the great mysteries and wonders that we can be reflecting on this Advent season is the Incarnation: the mystery that the God of the universe would become a human, even a defenceless baby. To explore this mystery, Søren Kierkegaard tells the story of a king who loves a poor and humble girl andContinue reading “Poetic Translations: The King and the Maiden”
Advent 2: Forgetting
I missed a day. Too busy with carols and attempts to put my son to sleep, I slept that second Advent Sabbath night forgetting to rest, forgetting to write. Rest slips past us now. Today I forgot also to drink water, to eat. Now waiting in queues I regret this forgetting. The time we saveContinue reading “Advent 2: Forgetting”
“Do not despise the day of small things”
On days of frustration, beware the futile fury that burns when queues are as long as red tape and parking spaces are few. On days when nothing’s achieved, beware the muted rage that despises the stranger for taking your place in a lane or a line, that resents the day for passing. On these dogContinue reading ““Do not despise the day of small things””
Advent 1: Expectation
Not expectant last year, we met the season with a kind of still gratitude, quiet in the truth that what had been had been, and was not now, grateful for months of frozen meals and flowers (grief and surgery have these in common), and hopeful that the next year must be better at least thanContinue reading “Advent 1: Expectation”
Hyfrydol in the Suburbs
A scramble for parking greets us, then the festive aisles to survive. These shelves have been stocked with seasonal cheer since the night when the dead arose. Now celebration cake replaces pumpkins to carve, and the shock is swapped with the joyful trimmings of the time. Yet what room is there? I negotiate tight spacesContinue reading “Hyfrydol in the Suburbs”
In Translation: Restless Heart/Urolige Hjerte
Herre, du har skabt os til dig, og vort hjerte er uroligt, indtil det finder hvile hos dig. Lord, you have made us for yourself and our hearts are restless until they rest in you. (St Augustine, Confessions) When I first started learning Danish last year and was looking for anything to help me, IContinue reading “In Translation: Restless Heart/Urolige Hjerte”
Poetry for new dads
Grand plans will have to wait. Time works differently here: sometimes it hums, sometimes skips, sometimes vanishes. You will think, “There’s a thought; I’ll write about that-” Only – catch the thought, before nappies and necessity make it dissipate in baths at 8 and all that joy – the total joy that nonetheless necessitates thatContinue reading “Poetry for new dads”
Poetic Translations: From the Aphorisms of Søren Kierkegaard
What is a poet? An unhappy man who deep in his heart hides anguish, but whose lips are so comprised that when he screams he makes sweet music. I’d rather be a swineherd of the hills understood by pigs than a poet misunderstood by men. *** I prefer to speak to children. At least ofContinue reading “Poetic Translations: From the Aphorisms of Søren Kierkegaard”
Spring Cleaning (II)
I go to prepare a place for you. We do too; with unsure anticipation, we make a space atop the stairs, with bunting and books and animals on the walls, a cot, tiny clothes, a place for your toys. We also prepare our days, our thoughts. They too make space for the big rearrange, thisContinue reading “Spring Cleaning (II)”
The Consolations of Writing 