Between the Worlds


She comes


Always the window

Never the door

I lock the door

I hold it open

I close it

I wait for a knock

That never comes


Always the damn window

And it doesn’t even matter

Open, closed

Winter, Summer

Even with the blinds down

She comes…


Flitting through

Like a ghost

No choice

No invitation

She comes…


And I love her

And I hate her

And I want her

And I fear her

She comes silently…


A silvery beast

So wild and free

I bathe in her light

I am transformed

From the body that goes “clunk”

The one that hurts

And cries

And dies


To the One

Whom I am at one with

At one with my brothers and sisters

One with the standing ones

At one with the things that crawl and slither

One with the winged ones

At one with the two legged

One with the four legged

At one with all there is


Why would I

Not go there?

Is it that I am so in love

With my humanity

My pain

My flaws

My individuality?


Of course

I cling to that

Like the bone dry brown leaves

Of a scrub oak

Through a long Winter

That fine bristling sound

For a snowy walk

On a blustery winter eve

A counterpoint

To the silvery stillness

That comes through

My window at night


I use the door

She the window

I turn the knob

And walk out stiff legged and sore

To hear those bristling leaves

to see those sights

I think is all there is

How not to…

How not to?


When this…


Is all…


I think…


I know…


I hang in weightless stasis

Between the pendulum’s swing

I bask in silvery moon light

Between the worlds go I