We were shades instead of light beams. It’s what adolescence is all about. Shading the light from our limbs so we have a chance to grow into ourselves. But I didn’t know that, and I flickered on the candle of impetuous movements. I held little motion of refined grace. I.
So then there were moments of letting go and those lasted like eons and did not happen easily. But they did not flicker either. A truck caught in the light of day acknowledged so sudden an impact of the past that you had to memorialize it. That kind of thing.
by Hank Cherry
