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.