this is the time of in-between
a holding pattern, circling the wait between
our dawn and our completion…
there are days to settle
three-quarter hours to walk in early day’s darkness
new light to grow accustomed to
hidden currents, carrying winged muses to watch for with great anticipation
while outside our window we are silenced
straining for the sounds of a dark evening’s rogue waves….
here is another frame of time
to be reckoned with
as farewells are forced into the
in-between
as passing time lays paused on tongues like broken words
in mouths emptied of sufficient saliva
we try to form our gratitude to those beloved
while silently deciphering our own uneasy language
of words, more words
not foreign to ear, only to necessity…
we try again to articulate
from imperfect in-between syllables and recent lost nouns
only to find them left hanging in air, like fine strands dewy webs left to whisper in the winds…
this is a time of in-between
a fruitless search for a perfect salve
to heal old wounds and bruising
a search for imperfect words to lean us toward redemption
toward appropriate goodbyes in uneasy times
and in-between lies our moments together
in between a time of faith of chance
of memory and retribution as we manuever and watch
for ways to ease through what is fitting
in between a soul and a troubled survival
That time. Perfectly captured.