O Lord, restore us deaf and blind, Unclose our lips tho’ dumb. (Christina Rossetti, “Advent”) At my desk, while a quiet internal road ebbed and flowed with the business traffic of the common afternoon, and wind kicked up dust from the gravel carpark and tossed hair into plaintive matts, and threw clothes into disarray IContinue reading “Advent 3: Longing”
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The Consolations of Writing 