The silence of twilight
is broken by
a raucous chorus of
– croaking –
full of a joy
untouched by peals
of thunder
or threat of wind.
Glorying under
a gibbous moon
singing unencumbered
while night birds
provide counterpoint….
A cacophonous melody…
the sounds of home.
There is a silence
in the space between
that used to
terrify me.
Now it sings me
to sleep…
There were
hidden storms there…
violent… dangerous…
Now there is the
gentle kiss of wind
and starlight…
I have found
my dance partner…
now I twirl…
arms flung out –
embracing the dark –
loved by the
meteors…
making wishes.
Sometimes my heart
becomes exhausted
by the tremendous
weight of this
– grief –
And every new
pebble of pain
hits the bottom
like a boulder
sending tidal waves
instead of ripples.
Thrown by the
destruction, I ache…
but I recover…
Now, sitting in the
night air…
peace finds me
once again…
hesitant,
tentative
but alive.
How strange
and wonderful
to find
-all these years later-
that there is love
that doesn’t hurt
doesn’t break you
doesn’t leave scars
on your soul.
There is a white tree
in the woods
near my home.
Its skeletal bark
a stark contrast
amongst the
near blackness
surrounding it.
Its light leaves
screaming out
against the silence
of dark pine needles
all around.
It rises stubbornly
reaching bone-white
fingers toward the
sky…palms upward
full of an offering
of peridot…
kissed each night
by moon and stars.
It is an odd thing
to live in the space
between…
I am a woman
mid-fourties.
I have no children.
I have no mother.
No one knows what
to do with me
on Mother’s Day.
Sometimes it feels
like the space between
is supposed to be shameful
or somehow
less than.
But I don’t feel ashamed
or lessened.
I feel loved by the wind
comforted by the dance
of leaves against
a moonlit sky
and I don’t shy away
from the lonely hours…
Songs of frogs
and night birds
bid me to dance
-barefoot-
among them…
I feel wild
and alive.
Don’t pity me.
I don’t pity myself.
Come…let me teach you
the dance of the dark
and the glory
of the night wind.
captivatingbitter 