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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