Edges

I have come all this way

to the edge of my continent

seeking out borders,

margins, boundaries

finding them mutable

always in flux

rising and falling

vanishing in the spray

submerged one moment

then rocky and solid the next

a many-ton log becomes lethal

when water effortlessly floats it

like a marshmallow in cocoa

some distance down the sand

where it lodges again

immovable for another 12 hours

wind over the moist stairs

converts wholly solid wood

into a frosted impasse

haze obscures the highway

where greater light does more

to confuse than illuminate

then I melt my edges

into your tenderness,

dissolve into some other substance

that shifts and transforms

from firm to fluid to breath,

that lifts the unliftable with ease

moves it a distance along its course

where darkness allows

more lucidity than greater light

softening edges

I have come to find

~Andrine de la Rocha

posted 4/30/2011