My Edge


I will find my way,
back to the edge.
The edge of the mouth
of the volcano that once
invited me in, with a pulsing
promise of complete silence.
In rest. In the last prayer. In the
belly of a burning, churning whisper.
Freedom, it tells me. A reconnection
with the life I left behind, to come to
this wretched make shift cardboard box
of an existence. So crowded and busy and
littered with unnecessary trinkets and
sentimental ornaments that
look and sound human,
but are so far from it.

5 thoughts on “My Edge

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