How the South has Softened Me

I once wore a reflective suit of armor crafted from impatience, resentment, and cynicism. At the time, I believed that it protected me from the pain and suffering of both my internal and external realities. It was a shroud that kept people at arm’s length, even when I let them believe that they were aContinue reading “How the South has Softened Me”

Mosaic

Down by the banks of my childhood river are the rocks and the shells, the shrapnel of old; If I let you in, let you see my mosaic, I fear I’m too much of a thing to behold. So tides turn and billow like seasons of soul; mistakes yield to lessons like sand to theContinue reading “Mosaic”