After the teacher asked if anyone had
a sacred place
and the students fidgeted and shrunk
in their chairs, the most serious of them all
said it was his car,
being in it alone, his tape deck playing
things he'd chosen, and others knew the truth
had been spoken
and began speaking about their rooms,
their hiding places, but the car kept coming
up, the car in motion,
music filling it, and sometimes one other person
who understood the bright altar of the dashboard
and how far away
a car could take him from the need
to speak, or to answer, the key
in having a key
and putting it in, and going.
-THE SACRED by Stephen Dunn
Expressing joy and defiance through art: Writings and photos on hope and resilience; love and relationships; life and death; anger and acceptance; and human behavior and beliefs.
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What We Save From the Fire
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I have, by some measure of recklessness or sheer geographic fidgeting, inhabited eight U.S. cities. Birmingham, New Orleans, Fort Lauderdale...
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Here I sit - nursing a scotch, looking out at the pink and orange reflection of the sunset on the mountain—pondering my solitary act of civi...
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"I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must take sides. Neutrality helps...
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