The In Between

a poem on slowing down and being in the middle, or not being where you want to be yet

Image from Canva by “Good Studio”

Slow down, you're doing fine
You can't be everything you wanna be before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight, tonight
Well, too bad but it's the life you lead
You're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong, you know
You can't always see when you're right, you're right

This week, I’m trying out something brand new and much shorter than I’ve published so far - a poem! I first wrote this back in February. It’s a response to a writing prompt from Erik Ehn, inspired by Imbolc/Candlemas/Groundhog Day, that I wrote somewhat quickly in one sitting (maybe 30 minutes?)

I - and many other writers - wrote our pieces between the evening of February 1st and dawn on February 2nd. The general theme of all of the holidays above is in-betweenness, and readiness for change. While seasonally, these holidays occur at the midpoint of winter and cause us to reflect on the anticipation of spring, I feel like the feeling of being “in between” is quite apt for the summertime months too.

In order to go deeper,

We can’t just try harder

We have to sit with what is.

-from a yoga class taken in January

the in between

 little things

 coffee mornings

 & cocoons

-

the flutter of a wing 

from the caterpillar

first a swoosh

then a boom

-

a flicker of light

grows to a steady slow flame

an unspoken dream

calls your name

-

fragments of truth

wintry wild scars

the promise of tomorrow

revealing who we are

-

reveling in all we are

in this in between

-

so what do we do here, 

rest?

hibernate?

stop?

sway?

brace ourselves for what’s next?

how can we ever?

who can ever?

who has ever?

-

anxious

antsy

yearning for a blue print

a hint

a path

a taste of what’s to come

-

and look – there’s the sun 

the only thing that’s sure

the light

the light

ever-changing & constant

all the light we cannot hold

and must hold

must hold

-

is this enough?

is this feeling enough?

this heaviness mixed with hope and fear and whimsy and rebirth and play?

And so much more I cannot name 

it changes everyday

maybe that’s why it’s hard to say

-

I didn’t mean for this to rhyme

to have a rhythm

but it does

somehow

it emerged. on its own. So will I.