It Is The Peculiar Nature Of The

Rebirth Is Almost Impossible Without The Darkness.....i Tell Myself I Am Experiencing The Death Of Myself As Mother, The Death Of Myself As A Younger Woman -- Precious Old Lives Going By The Wayside. Of Course, I Should Let Myself Grieve. To Deny The Grief Is To Squander A Transforming And Radiant Possibility.

You Can Go Other Places, All Right - You Can Live On The Other Side Of The World, But You Can't Ever Leave Home

I Said, "if I Was A Negro Girl-" He Placed His Fingers Across My Lips So I Tasted His Saltiness. "we Can't Think Of Changing Our Skin," He Said. "change The World-that's How We Gotta Think."

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.

I Believe In The Goodness Of Imagination.