A Society Of Friends

A Society of FriendsRushing Out of Philadelphia in the sleek, gray Lincoln, Monsignor Martin de Porres Fisher crested the high point of the Ben Franklin Bridge and drove into the blinding rays of first dawn. In a moment, his welling spirit escaped the our, was airborne, To an undertone of the Magnificat, it fled the long distance over land and sea to his favorite all black beach in Jamaica, where he'd often lain naked and at peace, his relentless vigilance against the white world, temporarily pu...