Cane

Description

There’s a rhythm to the land in Georgia, a song that hums beneath the fields of cane and whispers through the towns where stories take root. I’ve walked those red dirt roads and heard the cries of joy and sorrow echo in the voices of the people I’ve met. Their lives—our lives—are woven like threads of sweetgrass: the farmer’s labor, the singer’s longing, the preacher’s faith. Each moment holds a truth, raw and unspoken, that lingers in the soul. In this journey between rural roots and urban awakenings, I’ve seen beauty and pain intertwine, a dance as old as the earth itself.

But the North calls, and with it comes a new kind of rhythm—fast, relentless, electric. The distance from the land to the city is greater than miles; it’s a shift in the heartbeat, a separation from what once was. Still, the stories remain. They’re in the air I breathe, in the memories of faces I’ll never forget. And as I tell them to you, I hope you’ll feel them too—because these stories aren’t just mine. They belong to anyone who’s ever tried to reconcile where they come from with where they dream of going.