Many on Edge as the Virus Rages
Nate Wilbert
February 12, 2022
Stand on the bank of the Rubicon river,
Place yourself in view of Caesar and his legion,
Watch as they cross not one but two lines.
Dance in the fire of our falling empire,
Lay down in the light of stars, not your star,
Breathe in deep the air of the morning after.
Drop between the womb and our relentless
World, where the lilies of the mountain die
So busy city streets get their palm trees,
Where gold leaf halos are found, out of reach,
Where stories fall at graveside, ceremonies
Holding the candles of life so tightly.
Stretch your soul like all of humanity
Beyond your conception of God, further,
Beyond even Rumi’s field, where we meet
And beyond, of course, the certainty of
Our Rubicon, rim of reality,
Crossing the edge, ascending, descending.
Grab Jacob’s ladder, while Jacob watches
Us climb between this pandemic and its
Endemic. There’s an edge to everything.
Nate Wilbert, a Texan for 25 years, now lives on the edge of the Adirondacks of New York, with his wife and their dog, reading and writing poetry, working remotely for an airport in Texas.
