You Can Tell Which Girls Lack Mothers

What Has Happened To Our Ability To Dwell In The Unknowing, To Live Inside A Question And Coexist With The Tensions Of Uncertainty? Where Is Our Willingness To Incubate Pain And Let It Birth Something New? What Has Happened To Patient Unfolding, To Endurance? These Things Are What Form The Ground Of Waiting.

Regrets Don't Help Anything.

Up Until Then I'd Thought That White People And Colored People Getting Along Was The Big Aim, But After That I Decided Everybody Being Colorless Together Was A Better Plan. I Thought Of That Policeman, Eddie Hazelwurst, Saying I'd Lowered Myself To Be In This House Of Colored Women, And For The Very Life Of Me I Couldn't Understand How It Had Turned Out This Way, How Colored Women Had Become The Lowest Ones On The Totem Pole. You Only Had To Look At Them To See How Special They Were, Like Hidden Royalty Among Us. Eddie Hazelwurst. What A Shitbucket.

Now And Then Sprays Of Rain Flew Over And Misted Our Faces. Every Time I Refused To Wipe Away The Wetness. It Made The World Seem So Alive To Me. I Couldn't Help But Envy The Way A Good Storm Got Everyone's Attention.

Soul. The Word Rebounded To Me, And I Wondered, As I Often Had, What It Was Exactly. People Talked About It All The Time, But Did Anybody Actually Know? Sometimes I'd Pictured It Like A Pilot Light Burning Inside A Person--a Drop Of Fire From The Invisible Inferno People Called God. Or A Squashy Substance, Like A Piece Of Clay Or Dental Mold, Which Collected The Sum Of A Person's Experiences--a Million Indentations Of Happiness, Desperation, Fear, All The Small Piercings Of Beauty We've Ever Known.