It is the between that kills
The limbo
The maybe, but
Maybe, not yet
It’s the neither that kills
The liminal
The dark hall neither
Yes nor loss
It is the between that kills
Rehearsing the scenes
Suffering each and
Asking, when, when?
It is the neither
It is the between that kills
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Transitions often stir unrest within us. It's a cross between free-fall and a sense that our inner gyroscope is out of sync. As William Bridges tells us in his book "Transitions," we in the western world feel a powerful urgency to have one foot in the New before the other is yet out of the Old. Bridges advocates in Interval, during which we allow our minds and spirits process what was and avoid rushing into the new phase.
When I was processing the end of my long marriage and pondered my new life, Bridges' words resonated for me and I wrote this poem in honor of that guidance:
"A Time Out"
I shall let my soul lie fallow,
ignore the hassles,
set aside the multitude
of stultifying shoulds,
and simply
be.
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