Ralph Yarl
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Our Children
You are fourteen,and despite the childish laughter—the one smoother than the fresh coat of loveon a baby’s skin—your mothers must warn youthat certain skin toneswon’t allow you to flash open innocence. You are not allowed to purchase candy,tell jokes,or ring the wrong doorbell. Certain histories won’t let you forget the presentor permit childhood to take… Continue reading
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Dancing Between Two Truths
I get emotional when I remember the faces of the children I used to teach, who are now young adults. Their formerly round and babyish faces have thinned out to resemble those of young adults. They provide concrete evidence of the passage of time. My nieces, nephews, and students are now in college, studying a… Continue reading
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