Crawling Through the Grass of Grief

A Poem by John Lee As I crawled through the tall grass of grief I saw so many interesting and disquieting things.   The priest asks us to bend our knees and pray but doesn’t he mean crawl?   Crawling makes us indistinguishable from nearly eight or ninety percent of life.   Ants crawled right […]


from The Flying Boy Letters: Responses and Replies 30 Years Later Letter # 31 June 29, 1990 White Bear Lake, Minnesota Dear John: I just finished reading I Don’t Want to Be Alone. As usual, I was so anxious for help that I only read the last half. I’m inspired. It was exactly what I needed. […]