Crossing the Border of Almost

Fog (metaphor for mystery)

saturates my pores, sends

an ancient message:  attend

 to the moment at hand.


I stand inside fog, realize

I am at a border, where past

blurs into memory, and

the future is unknowable.


Perhaps this is how refugees

feel—a deep longing tinged

with regret—as they journey

between here and there,


no longer where they were,

not yet where they will be.

They are time travelers, wary

and unsettled, mourning


what is lost to them, riding

uncertainty on fragile waves

of hope.  Fog whispers this,

reminds me that all of us live


our lives along borders—real

and imagined—caught on seams

or inside the space between,

yearning, on the edge of almost.


Cynthia J. Lee

LEE_Crossing the Border of Almost

Crossing the Border of Almost (24 x 24, Oil, cold wax, pastels on wood panel)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s