Planted
perfectly, so firmly,
in this space
between what all is right and what all is wrong,
between what's left and what is gone,
between where I've been and where I'm headed...
and I am waiting for the air to cool and the leaves to finally
fall,
I am waiting for a new and softer light to mark my way.
I am here, in between the silences, between my will and hope,
and I am holding on to what I shouldn't and
fighting for
what I think is mine
and my
mind,
like the weather,
is playing tricks...
promising what it can't
or won't
deliver.
I am waiting for rush
of gold while grazing
in this pasture, green, and still am in between all silver nights and gilded
day.
I am waiting for the noise to lessen so I might hear the
truth.
In between strengths and weaknesses, patience and the loss of heart,
I wait,
a stranger,
in between.
I am soft but hardening,
alone with many,
and I am half numb and partly sparking.
I am speaking
out of turn
and then looking for my tongue.
Acknowledging the shock,
I am in between the wisdom and the place I've long since turned my face from.
I am stuck in a moment calling for its purpose,
restless
in between
my own acceptance and temptation of escape.
So I am waiting for the air to cool and the fear like leaves to finally fall,
I am balancing in between the seasons,
merely visiting the false fluorescence of what was once familiar.
I am teetering in between the comfort of the fire and the scorch of
flames.
And in between superfluous and not enough,
I try with words
to mark
my way.
Here, between what's left and what's been taken,
I am letting go of what I should
and surrendering all I thought was mine.
In between the time of skittish squatting
and the courage to carry on, my nature like the elements is equipping to deliver.
I am in between two worlds
on pilgrimage
and my knees are shaking but my feet are heating
so I am in between
but moving on.
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