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On the brink I tremble, frightened steps toward somewhere I have never been.
Questioning the crossing,
if I turn around now, there is still time.
Smoldering embers can be saved from ash.
Maybe if I fit into the perfect shape of wood,
I will lay down and bring the dying fire back.
Comfortably settled in the realm of knowing.
Everything they taught me warns, “Your time for adventure is over.”
“It is not safe out there alone. “
“Turn around. Be grateful. It is good enough.”
On the brink, I tremble, voices begging me to stay.
I allow them to speak,
I sit down and listen.
They are trying to protect me.
“It is too dangerous.” “Be responsible.” “It doesn’t make sense.” “Magic is for children.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
Probably. Yes. Absolutely.
I thank them for their concern.
I remind them I already tried…
To be good. To play it safe. I painted a perfect smile, across an apologetic face.
Shook my head yes, when inside I raged no.
On the brink, I tremble, with the force of nature inside
Creation and destruction intertwined.
Fractal veins over animal bones.
I open my mouth
To unleash a soul weaved of wildflowers
Who can only bloom feral.
On the brink I tremble, the rage transformed into ash.
I will not turn back
to build a fire
for the comfort of others.
I get on my hands and knees
To spread mystery across my cheekbones. I remember.
“She belongs everywhere and nowhere.”
Love is the only way and it’s f*cking fierce.
On the brink I tremble, the ash transformed into grace.
Grace I thought not strong enough to straddle worlds.
And so I let go,
Of strength I thought would save me.
To find myself shapeshifting through the crossroad gaps.
A gentle flow through bridges I swore would kill me.
Guided by whispers of shaky yellow leaves
Backdropped by a wicked blue canvas
over Wasatch mountains.
I hear water rush through wild rocks.
I know I am home.
On the brink I tremble,
I will stay.
With her.
Because she will always be the one I am longing for.
Home.
“I don’t know where I am going, but I know exactly how to get there.”
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