Liminal

Jean Janzen "To see nothing cross the threshhold, but to see the threshhold." ~Frederick Buechner Sometimes it is the scent of peach, smooth and sweet as a newborn, or the newborn breathing in soft flutter. Or the river, relentless and disappearing. Nothing firm, like granite, which bars the entrance, yet having been born in fire could become fire again. Then is the doorway everywhere-- grass, bread, your hand gesturing? Or language, your voice saying "here it is," a place we can almost glimpse. ~~~~~ Next: Literature