What if all our modern mystics are medicated and that’s why we don’t hear God? What if transcendence, communion with supernal, is cast as condition and we killed all our mediums for messagings from God? Then, as is the nature of evil, a good and truth is turned on its […]
All Posts By: Byron McCoy
Journal Pages
PRAYER TO SAINT BENEDICT
I prayed a prayer to Saint Benedict last night. Weekend before, while searching for First Communion gift for my nephew and their cousin, both my oldest son and daughter found bracelets with the Benedictine cross and medallion. Both are on the rosary I most often wear, and are the medallion of the only necklace […]
Short Story
CATCHING OF A DREAM
They brought the boat to bank on island in the stream where the current divided into two separate runs on island’s sides ever-shifting and moved, season on season, by wash and pushing of the water. One side was broad and shallow, riffles that lit in length over water’s spread. On second side, channel […]
Short Story
RAINBOW DREAMS
Beyond the lawn, river ran. Light danced upon its face. In its run held rainbow dreams they knew to be real for they had caught and held them in their hands before releasing back into the river’s run. From the river, ridge rose steep, its sides a deep of shadowed green—summer’s […]
Short Story
MORNING BEAUTY
She was beautiful in the morning light, yellow cast upon the lawn through which she walked, barefooted, feeling cool and wet of night-left dew over ankles, toes, and open soles. Like fill of the trees in full of leaf, she showed in set of summer adorn. From fair of winter, through wake and […]
Journal Pages
INTO SOMETHING
Early morning, stack of books before me and journal at my side—should words and inspiration show—mind refused settle. Nothing focused. Nothing fixed, held in draw of my attention, and so I prayed. Lights off, candle lit, morning still in darkness, from beginning Cross through bead by bead—I prayed. What were my […]
Short Story
OSAGE SPIRIT
They were not the mountains of open west, high deserts, high peaks, dry air in scent of juniper and sage. The mountains were not new—if ever ones could be. The mountains were old, ancient, once great plateau worn of water and wind into ridges of spines that fell away and on whose […]
Short Story
HYDE PARK
American Gothic, austere and gray, but for a time it has it’s spring; and of such way, he always remembered, revering age and season of his youth; blossom and find and emerging of self from amongst the gray stone walls; open of the park in which he walked and found her there—struck, as Marius […]
Journal Pages
GIVEN CHANCE
If at the end of life I am given chance to re-live again, one more time, experiences I’ve loved: I pray to hear my oldest son on the piano. I listened to him today. He played a song called “Cathedral Bells” and, closing my eyes, I could hear again the organ-sound of the […]
Short Story
THE CRUX
Often, we make a story longer than is needed. Building up to what it is we wish to say, audience loses interest and never finds what it is we wish to tell. Get to the point. Tell what matters. Meaning hangs on the crux. The story of Creation is told in a […]