My
hope still comes from beyond the hills
Even
though the hills are low
And
the sun yet lower
My
help comes from the Lord
Who
doesn’t give a Creator’s damn
About
whether I believe in him
Or
worship her
Or
praise it
Him and her and it being a sort of
Trinity
of pronouns
United
in ignoring my creeds and credos
John
Robert McFarland
I
seem to be the only person in the world who has moral qualms about the ending
of Delia Owens’ quite good debut novel, Where
the Crawdads Sing.
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