Mohicans and Metaphor

There are a handful of moments in books and movies that strike my heart, mind, and sympathies unflinchingly. Generally these are moments characterized by some sort of passionate overflow of emotion or thought. One such scene happens to be in my favorite movie, The Last of the Mohicans, a story about a dying era and... Continue Reading →

Two Sets of Hands

I dip my bread in the wine and hold it over my hand while we pray. A drop descends into my palm and spreads through the valleys and mountains of the lines of my hands. Another falls and another. I am afraid; ashamed. My iniquity surrounds me, stains me. Your blood on my hands, it... Continue Reading →

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