Saturday, August 31, 2013


I am neither in nor out.
Meaning, there is no reference point.

And I will do things, 
like meet you
to fling paint and 
drink wine,
even though I know 
it’s more an invitation
to soothe our broken hearts and
seek solace in our 
mutual desire
for loving 
and being loved.

And yes, our comfort in
each other is 
hot and fleshy and fun
and leaves us spent for the moment,
but it’s not
in and it’s 
not out,
and there is no reference point.

You are shy and I am silent,
we are protecting
our still broken hearts,
but now we are 
even more naked,
even more exposed.

We talk about what we want:
you begin and I am grateful,
you are speaking
my heart as you open your own
our deep need 
for healing from within  
what is it to be so self-referred?
fulfilled? contained?
our deep desire 
for connection from without
will I ever belong?
to anyone? anything?

We toss about a way or two
to moil through the mire together,
but our hearts are
neither in nor out.
There is no reference point.
We cannot see the way.

And so I say:
like it or not, we are living
the in-between space,
not together and not separate,
grasping yes, but somehow still healing,
we’re threestepsforwardtwostepsback
a mirror,
a reflection,
a possibility,
a reminder.

And even without knowing
the depth and breadth
of the stories that
brought us into this
liminal space of heartache
and darkness,
the reference is our
orientation to the light,
whatever else we may
or may not be to
each other.

We are a witness
for the journey
of the threshold  
– the doorway –

and the courage of the heart
that beats and beats
no matter
how far in
or how far out
we may be.

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