You will find me in the edges of things.
In the hinterland where old things coalesce with new and something else begins to be born.
In the edges of things where it all happens, the new and juicy microbial beginnings we at first don't see,
that slowly grow to become part of us,
open up new, unimagined landscapes,
a bloom on the skin of yesterday.
Is this particular edge a threshold or a precipice? Or both?
I trust and thrust, run
forwards, towards something that is still in shadows beyond the edge,
trusting I am not alone,
the wrenching now sweet relief.
And I find it is true, the door to joy opens outwards.
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