Standing at the Edge

silhouette of lone woman facing a giant powerful wave in black a

Standing at the edge
I feel the familiar fear of movement,
The sting of failure,
The desire to lie low instead of being seen,
To run to the safety of the life I’ve always known

The softest path is well-worn
And rarely brings me to this place,
Yet on this darkest night
Here I find myself again at the crossroads
Of continued passage along the familiar
And this steep and jagged ledge

Stepping out has risks
And implications unseen
The edge has no railing
And the crevasse below seems bottomless,
With darkness as far as eyes can see,
No way to tell how far I’d fall
Or if I’d ever rise again

Standing at the edge
I know my chances of survival are greater
Unless simply surviving means missing out
Unless my own survival isn’t even the goal

Standing at the edge
There below me in the dark
The spirits of my ancestors beckon,
I feel the brush of angels’ wings
And a voice deep inside whispers,
“You won’t have this chance again.”

And so I take deep breaths
A few stumbling steps backwards
Raise my arms to the night sky
And take a running leap

©SpiritLed 2016
www.aspiritledlife.org

 

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