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