Wednesday, December 28, 2016
Monday, December 26, 2016
Friday, December 23, 2016
|The Central Synagogue in New York City.|
I am at synagogue tonight and
when we turn to face the Sabbath Bride,
I am walking with your elbow in my palm
to the corner restaurant.
A boy came past and
cursing, muttered, "Dirty Jew."
I wheeled and punched and
he fell to the sidewalk.
He had a bloody mouth.
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
|Canada's oldest Christmas hymn was written in the Wyandot language of its Huron First Nation people in 1642.|
'Twas in the moon of winter-time
When all the birds had fled,
That mighty Gitchi Manitou
Sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wandering hunters heard the hymn:
"Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born,
In excelsis gloria."
Monday, December 19, 2016
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Thursday, December 15, 2016
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
|Reinhold Niebuhr Place is there for a reason.|
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.
Sometimes referred to offhandedly as the Facebook Prayer for it's ubiquitous presence on the social media app the Serenity Prayer is more than one sentence long.
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Monday, December 12, 2016
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Friday, December 9, 2016
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Sunday, December 4, 2016
|Literally, poetry on the road...|
Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer is considered to be the most widely read Spanish writers after Cervantes. The Bar None Group came across his poetry on a mural of the history of Barra de Navidad, Jalisco, Mexico. Is it coincidental that Bécquer's poem is found in Christmas town? The author himself died Christmas week in 1870.
Known as Rima XXXVIII, Bécquer's poem in Barra de Navidad is one of three pieces of poetry that encapsulates the sea as a central theme.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
|Cristo del ciclone watches over the faithful in Barra de Navidad.|
Predawn bottle rockets calling the faithful to prayer.
The thunderclap of surf meeting sand.
The first glare of sun offering promise of warmth
A choir of magpies singing in a papaya tree
The warm ocean breeze runs her fingers though my hair.
She whispers in my ear and her name is Barra.