I Said, "if I Was A Negro

My Ultimate Authority Is The Divine Voice In My Own Soul. Period.

Just To Be Is Holy, Just To Live Is A Gift.

I Think There Must Be A Place Inside Of Us Where Dreams Go And Wait Their Turn.

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.

That's What I Told Myself Five Hundred Times: Impossibility. I Can Tell You This Much: The Word Is A Great Big Log Thrown On The Fires Of Love. ~page 133.