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Johnny sure would love to get the hell out of here, but where on Earth could he go? Here being pain in the legs and hips from the wreck. Here being surgery bills that don’t square with bank accounts. Here is knowing the drunk walked away unscathed. Here is the torpor of this trailer behind daddy’s place. What separated me from Christ’s love, he says? Trouble or hardship or persecution or, or, or… I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness and only one power has released me from this agony. Look at the trees, he says. Look at the grasses, the river, the whitetail. See how alive, how high, how abundant. If you fall asleep it’ll grow right over your head. Tell me how ruin and want endure in a place capable of this much green? JOHN MARK BALLENGER
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Sep 10, 2021
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