I Grew Up In The American South

I Didn't Know What To Think, But What I Felt Was Magnetic And So Big It Ached Like The Moon Had Entered My Chest And Filled It Up. The Only Think I Could Compare It To Was The Feeling I Got One Time When I Walked From The Peach Stand And Saw The Sun Spreading Across The Late Afternoon, Setting The Top Of The Orchard On Fire While Darkness Collected Underneath. Silence Had Hovered Over My Head, Beauty Multiplying In The Air, The Trees So Transparent I Felt Like I Could See Through To Something Pure Inside Them. My Chest Ached Then, Too, This Very Same Way.

You've Got To Figure Out Which End Of The Needle You're Gon' Be, The One That's Fastened To The Thread Or The End That Pierces The Cloth.

I Wanted To Know What Happened When Two People Felt It. Would It Divide The Hurt In Two, Make It Lighter To Bear, The Way Feeling Someone's Joy Seemed To Double It?

I'll Write This All Down For You," I Said. "i'll Put It In A Story." I Don't Know If That's What He Wanted To Ask Me, But It's Something Everybody Wants--for Someone To See The Hurt Done To Them And Set It Down Like It Matters.

We Need Not Avoid Our Active Lives, But Simply Bring To Them A New Vision And Shift Of Gravity. For In The Center We Are Rooted In God's Love. In Such A Place There Is No Need For Striving And Impatience And Dashing About Seeking Approval.