Countertops and Cliff Edges
Welcome to the beginning of a completely new journey. To those of you who will periodically or regularly read my blog, I deeply appreciate your care, prayers, and support. As I prepare to step on a one-way flight Monday morning, your standing behind me and keeping watch on the wall unspeakably strengthens my spirit. I named the web address of this blog "holding by the edges," because in so many ways, I am. Below is a poem I wrote last fall that holds the original idea of this phrase, but as a reader, I want you to understand what this notion means to me. As I return to Romania, I feel that I am going with the spirit of a child. Holding by the Edges What Measures Me My hands smooth over the Formica, fingers curling down beneath the counterop ledge, supporting this weight. I am standing in the sunrise, and the fields are running up to the horizon. By what I see I am held against other mornings, when the sunbeams were just f...