And To Dust You Shall Return
My class has a test on Thursday, but today is Wednesday, and I am sitting in the Lady Chapel, and thinking sinful thoughts, and listening to a man who is brought in twice a term to say Mass (apparently God isn’t keen on women speaking in His house), and I am quietly memorising my index […]
Amen
Amen tastes like church cookies: crumbly, stale, hauled out of cardboard boxes, old man’s fingers with popping blue veins beat her to the chocolate ones. She is always surprised when she remembers Sundays in this golden haze, edged in maroon, the smell of mahogany – She breaks off the memory li
‘I’m down on my knees…’
By the roots of my hair some god got hold of me. I sizzled in his blue volts like a desert prophet. – Sylvia Plath, ‘The Hanging Man’, Ariel (1965) Words are like people. They flake when you need them. ‘Pain words are lacking,’ Virginia Woolf wrote. ‘There should be cries, cracks, fi
Nothing Ever Happens
Christianity has always been a fundamental part of me. My earliest memory is of crouching beneath a pew in the parish church where my family would worship when I was a child. My mother became a priest when I was eight. I sang in a church choir every Sunday and I’ve heard more sermons than [&hellip
