With a few short lines, the words on the page did more than transport me. They were lovely, but it was the poems that captured my attention. The pictures were of butterflies and flowers and clouds against blue skies. It was a chapbook of watercolor images of nature accompanied by short poems. She passed out graham crackers on cocktail napkins and Dixie cups filled with apple juice and made us sing, “Yes, Jesus Loves Me.” When we were done she handed us each a booklet she said we could keep. Our teacher was a kind woman in a corduroy dress. Or at least an accidental Lutheran in training: while my friend’s parent’s attended the service, she and I were sent to the Sunday school. For ninety minutes, I was an accidental Lutheran. I’d had a sleepover at a friend’s house the night before, and when we woke up, church is where we went. But on this particular Sunday I found myself there. Church was not a normal place for me to be. It was in a church, where I’d ended up one Sunday by chance. When I was seven, I had my first epiphany. How do writers have an impact on the world around them? Can literature be political without being partisan or ideological? This column was originally presented on Monday, November 21, 2016, at “ The Writer in the World: Celebrating 10 Years of the Black Mountain Institute” in Las Vegas. literary west is elated to publish a special “Dear Sugar” column by Cheryl Strayed on literature’s mission and the writer’s role in grim political moments.
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