I still come across people who are not familiar with the exodus story of the children, mostly boys, from Sudan known as The Lost Boys. What they endured coming out of Sudan is among the greatest events of the 20th century, if indeed there is such a thing as ranking the events in our lives. For me, their stories are so compelling that I want to know every detail...the story of the trek out of Sudan is sooo much in me that just recalling it enough to write this entry I can feel on my skin. The local newspaper is running another series of articles on the young men who settled here in Louisville. When they first arrived years ago I would stop dead in my tracks whether on foot or driving just to observe them. Physically, they are so strikingly beautiful people that my breath would be arrested when I saw them and I would cry when I first encountered them on Louisville streets. These young men also move with a grace that I've never seen, not even in dancers, and they are extremely quiet in their bodies. On my last hospital stay one of the young men from Sudan wheeled me to x-ray and in spite of him wearing sneakers and walking on a tile floor I couldn't hear his footsteps (and believe me I was listening because I've been taken with their grace and stillness for some time), and their gaze is so focused and outward as if everyday was a clear day and they can see into forever. Part of me, the poetic parts of me, believe that they where chosen by God to leave Sudan because there is something that they possess that the world is in need of.