On The Edge

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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