Jun 4 - A Patch of Dirt

I’ve always loved the ground. Earth is far more intriguing than most are willing to acknowledge. I mean, have you ever looked at a handful of dirt? Really, genuinely examined it with gusto? It’s amazing.

However, I have never felt particularly attached to any specific part of it. But that’s all changed. There is a patch of dirt in Lake Park Hills Cemetery in Laurel, Mississippi that is always on my mind. I have to reckon and rumble with it. I have to dream about and visit it. Why? Because my brother is there.

It’s a rectangle of earth that has within it the most honored guest that I could imagine. That rectangle has become sacrosanct to me, so much so that I decided not to put a picture of it here. I never would have imagined that a patch of dirt could mean so much, stand for so many things, but it does. And it will be my alter until I (me, myself, and my humanity) end.