Christopher Snook

At the end of a lengthy reflection on Advent, Alfred Delp writes: “Light the candles wherever you can, you who have them. They are a real symbol of what must happen in Advent, of what Advent must be, if we want to live.” Continue Reading »

And in the end is all ash,the translation of our praiseto ruin, and to long daysand nights at the window, the sash drawn tight against the dark—cold outside and colder stillthe stone, the hearth, the sillof an old house of bleached, stark bone? What is and what mighthave been tumble towards . . . . Continue Reading »