living between the edges...

I live on a small island between the ever pulsing Atlantic and the mysterious Carolina marsh.  I have been thinking lately about what it means, physically and metaphorically, to live between the edges.  When I think about the recent horrors and the gunning down of innoccent children in Newtown, it strikes me that many times we (me) hide behind layers of protection...refusing to step forward to the front lines and bear the brunt of taking a stand.  We choose silence, which, in effect, is the same as being the problem.  After all, who would choose to be bullied for being the voice of the voiceless; the mender of the broken heart; the one who dries the tears of the dejected?  I yearn to speak my truth.  I want my voice to be heard but, like others, it is easy for me to hide behind the front lines.  I always say that I am a behind-the-scenes type person, but it is time now for all of us (me) to decide to do the right thing.  Because don't we always know what that is?  But to take a stand sets us apart from the status quo, our peer group, and regional views.  It forces moral growth.  It will inevitably alienate family, co-workers, church members, and friends.  So, we abdicate and choose to live between the edges-refusing to answer the call to courage.  And that call to courage for any soul is to live out its purpose; to speak its truth?

“Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
  Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
William Butler Yeats