“Hang in there”, they said.
But he wasn’t hanging at all, his fingers were building a home for himself.
He was climbing. If he seemed to them to be hanging, how can we tell them that it’s because he liked to live on the edge?
He liked to be right where he was, in mid air.
He depended on being left alone right there.
He seemed to need some help. But nothing is actually what it seems to be.
Once we remember that we truly start enjoying his masterpiece.
His dream may be fragile but his resilience is as solid as a mountain.
Those whose feet are nailed to the ground are hanging in there.
But he is flying. He is a miracle weaving a miracle.
Beisan A. Alshafei
October 13th, 2022
Beisan's Burble 