So Few People Know What They're Capable

I Realize What A Strange In-between Place I Am In. The Young Woman Inside Has Turned To Go, But The Old Woman Has Not Shown Up.

When You Can't Go Forward, And You Can't Go Backward, And You Can't Stay Where You Are Without Killing Off Something Deep And Vital In Yourself, You Are On The Edge Of Creation.

I Grew Up In The American South And Came Of Age In The 1960s, An Incredibly Turbulent Time. It Was As If The Seams Of American Life Were Being Ripped Apart With Riots And Protests.

I Don't Remember What They Said, Only The Fury Of Their Words, How The Air Turned Raw And Full Of Welts. Later It Would Remind Me Of Birds Trapped Inside A Closed Room, Flinging Themselves Against The Windows And The Walls, Against Each Other.

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