My healing place

There are very few healing places left in the world.  I mean, those places where the diseased, the damaged and the disserted can sit down with a good friend.  I have a place like that.  It's the kind of place where people stop and greet one another and ask about where who you belong to.  I loved it because it took care of me when I belonged to no one.  I lived in a land of lawlessness with unlawful people who only comfortable in unlawful places.  You could trust no one.  You shouldn't trust anyone.  I did not trust at all.  When I came to the healing place, the first person I met was one that I could trust.  I waited for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't.  No one was trying to hurt me.  I liked that.  Every now and then, I wear orange and black and think of that place.  I try to remember the taste of the fried mushrooms or the chicken fried with cornmeal.  I stop and try to remember where I bought my first lipstick and where I met God.  Yep, everyone needs a healing place.