yvonne elizabeth ashworth |
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| | | | | ...when a random turn or two brought me more than once to the edge, i did not topple into the tangled mysteries below. but on that glassy threshold, the great strengths of my life pressed themselves into being - my illusive tools for survival, gifts from some primeval ancester, passed in secret along the chain of my forebears.
in the end, mine is a navigator's sense of place and the strength again to hoist the sails, the will again to catch the winds; and even when the land and all i ever loved are lost to me, and the stars are shrouded, and i am sore with losses, and afraid ~ even then, the miracles all around will leap to celebrate themselves, and i will celebrate them, too. and even then, i'll trust that a new shore will rise to meet me, and there, in that new place, i will find new things to care about...
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