It was one of those thunderstorms came on sudden-like. Before a body could cover its head it had passed on someplace else. Here, in our holler, we were used to such storms. We liked the surprise of ... [+]
Wounds cannot stay--
Only as fading white lines of memory--
All is forgotten with
Time, who steals the importance
Of the sting of suffering.
If, one day, this anguish will mean
Nothing to me,
Let me stay in my agony
So I will never be deprived
Of the brilliant, all-consuming,
Purifying pain.