by florence ondré
edge?
what edge?
never saw it coming
nor going by with warning’s thrumming
on the edge, a familiar lost place
when overshooting boundaries of the human race
it’s usually a line i have not seen
a hint…a clue..a filter screen
to tell me, ‘stop..halt…not one more step
or it’s the pickle again, up to your neck’
mostly, it’s after i’m over my edge
that i see once again, i’ve tromped past my pledge
to practice taking things more slowly with ease
so that on approach, i can feel edge’s breeze
denoting an appropriate place to desist
a moment in time when i can resist
being too busy; a human doing
who dashes past neon flashing clueing
“lookout. slow down. here it comes once more.
you’re in danger again to your very core
of flying over the well-placed edge
beyond the wall; way past the hedge ”
before you know it, i’m flying high
and in the blinking of an eye
i sigh with recognition, backward-looked
on the way to crashing; my goose well-cooked
oh, to be more in tune with where edge is
within me so i can clearly see
when i’m about to approach the goal
in order to save both body and soul
from unnecessary loss and pain
to simply breathe in; be still; remain
on the spot where awareness wakes
then i’ll save myself some hard heartaches
all this can be accomplished when i know
where my edges are and use the word, ‘no’
as a wand of wonder to myself and all
then choices are mine to fly or fall…….
with lessons in each option’s clarion call.
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