Journal Became A Sanctuary Where I Could

In A Way, Humans Are Not Made Of Skin And Bones As Such, As We're Made Of Stories.

That's The Sacred Intent Of Life, Of God--to Move Us Continuously Toward Growth, Toward Recovering All That Is Lost And Orphaned Within Us And Restoring The Divine Image Imprinted On Our Soul.

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

I'd Heard August Say More Than Once, "if You Need Something From Somebody, Always Give That Person A Way To Hand It To You." T. Ray Needed A Face-saving Way To Hand Me Over, And August Was Giving It To Him.

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.