I’ve known poet, writer, editor, and publisher L.L. Barkat for 17 years. We met on Twitter, as it was called back then. I read her book Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places. And then God in the Yard. We worked together at The High Calling. And, since 2009, with Tweetspeak Poetry. She’s just published a new poetry collection, The Book of Joy: 100 Poems for Your Heart. You can read Maureen Doallas’s review and an interview with Barkat here.
Some 25 years ago, we attended a church that, seemingly overnight, discovered the book The Prayer of Jabez, a short work about a very short passage in the Old Testament (2 Chronicles 4:9-10, if you’re interested). Suddenly, The Prayer of Jabez was everywhere. Our Sunday School class. Men’s Bible studies (and the women, too, for all I know). A sermon series from the pulpit. It was a tidal wave of Jabez. It was also thinly disguised prosperity gospel, and I resisted. This week, I happened cross an article about the passage, which puts it in its proper context.
I’m not sure whom is behind the Substack entitled “Abstract Truth,” but a friend provided a link to a post, and I read it. The post is entitled “Men Don’t Hate Reading; They Hate Your Books,” and, in addition to the funny AI-generated illustrations, it contains considerable truth.
Reading poetry can produce a variety of moods. To cite only a few: Some collection prompt thoughtfulness. Others can make you thoughtful. Still others prompt you to go quiet. And I can read some of the poems by a poet like Billy Collins and smile, often laughing out loud.
As I read Rue Obscure, the first full collection by poet Betsy Mars, one word kept popping into mind. And the word was pensive. Take that is the word’s broadest possible sense – deeply thoughtful and often hinted at sadness or wistfulness.
If I were asked what the most company themes in poetry are, I’d likely answer with two words: love and nature. Poets used to write a lot about love. But love as a poetry theme has suffered a serious blow in the popularity ratings in the last couple of generations. But nature? Poets have likely been speaking and writing about nature since the literary art was invented. Poets are still writing about nature. These days, writing about nature contains far fewer pitfalls than writing about love.
Then I read Fixed Hours: Poems by Kortney Garrison. Many, perhaps most, of the poems use nature. She doesn’t celebrate nature for the sake of nature. Instead, she uses nature as a metaphor, and not for one particular thing, but for many things. And she uses nature in a deliberative, thoughtful, almost prayerful way.
Two years ago, I posteda poem about a visit to the crypt of St. Bride’s Churchin London. It’s known as the Journalists’ Church because of its proximity to Fleet Street. There are no newspapers left on Fleet Street; they all moved to the suburbs decades ago. But the history persists, and so does the church.
That visit inspired a short story, published today in the Autumn 2026 issue of Cultivating. The story is “Brother Lionel,” and it’s a story about forgiveness. It joins articles, poems, and similar contributions by 19 other writers on the general theme of "renewing forgiveness."
St. Bride’s Church is famous for its tiered steeple, the inspiration for wedding cakes worldwide. The crypt below the church has a museum, a short walk of artifacts, and this chapel.
