At the edge
Of a world
Beyond my eyes
I know Exile
Green with hope-
We cannot cross
-"Promised Land" by Samuel Menashe
Where do we begin? How? The New World always seems so distant, so far from where we are, so hard to reach given what we think we're capable of. But it's beautiful, isn't it? The idea we have of who we might yet be. Perhaps we never get there. Perhaps we can never truly be that person, but we look out across the river at him, at her, and we yearn.
And we begin to become that person, ever so slowly.