At The Edge (Linda Miller Raff)
We are at the edge of everything,
at the very edge where
then and now and what if
all stand trembling together,
waiting for us to decide.
The temptation is to drop to the ground,
flatten ourselves against the edge we know
and just hang on.
It’s (relatively) safe here.
We know what’s behind us—
we’ve trod that ground before.
And we can always turn back
if this edge, our own made edge,
feels too dangerous.
To go elsewhere might be too far .
So we can stay. Until we decide. Waiting.
What if, what if though,
at the very edge of everything,
we fill our lungs
and decide to leverage what is right beneath us—
the holy ground of our then and now—
to push off and reach out and into
what is next.
What if, despite our fear,
we let go of our edge a little—
faith-filled that the void will not swallow us completely—
and rise up from our crouch of safety
to discover what and who
is urgently calling us on.
Then and now and what if standing together,
no longer trembling.
This is ours to decide. And we must.
Because we are at the edge of everything.