- Where steps have crossed the grass before a
- on Peachtree, the snow’s melted in puddles,
- but wind blows black and cold against the faith,
- against the faith and youthful crush of love.
- In Atlanta is a cross the South bears—
- love crossed by tragedy, depravation
- of war, of pride, of love, crossed by war, or pride
- that effort and the black night don’t hide.
- Born of such a place, what has clung in me
- that cannot be shaken by cold or time
- or be consumed in a nourishing warmth?
- I reach back, in, and find the guilt and pain.
- This only strengthens something in
- needs mystery; devotion needs a cause.