• author
    • Stacey Robinson

    • November 6, 2013 in Columnists


    There is a rising expectancy
    A hold-your-breath
    gathering in,
    gathering at the edge
    that drops away
    ten thousand feet
    and ten thousand more.

    A moment–
    just that one,
    that separates you from
    You hold yourself so
    so poised.
    so expectantly still.

    There’s a heartbeat’s difference
    between waiting
    and ready,
    a heartbeat,
    a moment,
    the distance between
    that narrow space
    between God
    and everything else.
    And you have walked that narrow space,
    that dry and dusty narrow space,
    cradling the tethers
    that bind you
    to that rock-strewn road,
    that narrow space between breaths,
    between God–
    between waiting and

    You have walked the ten thousand steps,
    and ten thousand more,
    an eternity of steps
    to cross that narrow distance,
    to stand in hushed–
    in waiting–
    in rising

    To leap into that moment,
    to complete that breath,
    to bridge the distance
    between waiting
    and God.

    To stand
    in grace,
    in quiet stillness,
    in breathless wonder,
    on the other side of waiting.
    And you gather in those tethers
    that have shackled you
    and bound you
    to the narrow places.
    You gather them
    and let them fall,
    let them lie
    cracked and dusty and rusted through.

    A breath.
    A heartbeat.
    A moment that stretches into
    the rest of forever
    And then
    you leap.


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