One for the Blackbird, One for the Crow

by Olivia Hawker

Each had taken up the truths they had trained themselves to see, drinking anger and hate or loneliness and despair as

eagerly as the summer-parched prairie drank the rain. I ain’t fool enough to think I’m wise, exactly, but I have learned one scrap of wisdom, at least: whatever a body expects their life to be, that’s what they’ll make of it in the end.

That was my talent, I guess you could say—my purpose in the world—to see and know. To see and know, even when everyone else had blinded themselves to the truth.

Wherever hand touches hand, the Oneness comes to stay. Once God has made a thing whole, it cannot be broken again.