Come to the edge….

spring
What if I
come to the edge
of my muddy vision,
all the way to the tip
of secret strangleholds,
artful excuses
and the blame I can shift
so swiftly.
…. to the edge of my judgments,
 idealism
and escapism,
to the edge of all the ways
I go numb to real need.
spring
Really,  what if I come to the edge
of my urgency and agendas,
out past the anger
…further still where it turns
to deep shades of shame.
  all the way past the point
where longing turns to rage
and grief becomes fatigue
…that place where creative juices
leak out and puddle,
seeping into the ground
like liquid gold
spilled and wasted.
 all the way to the edge
of missed opportunity,
lost time
and lonely fears
….yeah,  right there,
my shaky toes curled
clinging
 over that  ledge.
spring
Ready to lose some terror,  my soul?
Come to the edge,
linger there
and let wild winds whip
your freak flag until the billows
tickle you grinning and giggling
with raw primal joy.
Yeah,  there.
what if you just come on out here
…..see what happens.
“Come to the edge,  he said.
They said,  we are afraid.
Come to the edge,  he said.
They came.
He pushed them…….and they flew”
 -(Guillaume Apollinaire)
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