Connective Tissue

This in-between has got under her skin,
it is the dermis, the layer beneath –

made of connective tissue and sensory nerves.
It has become like a light

and she is the moth, who cannot 
help but fly into it.

She knows too, she dwells in that space
with the writing of this, as the words 

fall like a sun shower, only to dry up
as quickly as they once poured.

Are there moments of being
there, or here? Of starting, or arriving

of beginning, or ending? Or is there only
birth and death, and everything

in between?  It has caught her, this space
like a fish in a net, struggling to move. 

A place of transition, this not-here
nor there, a borderland between yesterday 

and tomorrow, vast and open
for as far as the eye can see.

She thinks of transition, and recalls
that worst part of labour before birthing

her children, and recalls 
the rattly sound of his breath

the agitated flailing of his body
before death mistakenly took him.

And she wonders, is it important, does it matter,
so what? To be left in a lurch, or

sat in a slump, to be forever left 
in the waiting room (of Dr Suess).

Does it matter what’s there? Does anyone 
care to know the pain of a labour, or

the agony of those sounds and sights 
that pre-empt death? Or the stories 

of traversing the vast sandy desert, or 
climbing the steep mountain track?

And I think, these are the  processes 
that take us, shape us and make us,

the in-between of this way and that,
of this self and the other.

Does it matter where I am? In between
the old and the new, reaching for one

while holding the other, moving between,
unsure, not knowing, reaching backwards

and forwards, outwards and inwards,
sinking and rising.  

So I embark on this journey 
of migration, navigating through

the borderlands, working the hyphen
between this self and an other. 

I have one hand on before, 
one hand in the after,

as I move into 
the multiplicity of possibility,

my heart in my mouth
my feet on the ground

no flying above
no shortcuts below,

with only the breath of wondering 
to guide my way.

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2 responses to “Connective Tissue

  1. 2012 is all about transition for many of us. Thank you for putting how I feel into such beautiful words.

    • I hadn’t thought about it like that – so thanks for your comment Debra Mae. Always interesting how what feels so personal can suddenly become so universal.

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