The Middle Place


It is in the middle of the place

Where you finally break down

and take the brave journey into your self

Recalling what it was like in vivid detail

Dancing in rhythm to the red hot intensity

of the whole world.

When you could wish for the rain,

To fall down harder,

Knowing it could hear you,

And laughed with you.

Dancing abandoned in warm summer puddles,

It is to this Middle place we must bravely return;

To when one face had two heartbeats,

And we knew all we would need to learn.

When all of the hopes of the world were within us,

flowering within in each cell

we have only reveal it.

Before your skin puckered

and became stained with spots

Before you knew more of what you were

And less of what you are not.

But try you must!

And know that it is not the first thing,

Nor the second or maybe even the fifth thing you try,

That will bring you back from the edge

Of what you believe is your own demise.

Listen to the simple creeping desires

that sounds like the ripping shred

of an old worn out skin,

This is how you will transform

this to that

Here to there,

Then to now.

This is how you will begin again to choose

and move

Past your own freezing point.

As you already know

The Tin Man needed to take one screeching step

Back to himself to recall

How freely his limbs had once moved,

and just knowing this

made him want to run and play


And although a beloved voice

Can no longer stir the wind,

It is still the music in the rustling of the autumn leaves

And skies of birds chanting in conspiring harmonies

That tell the greater story that you were meant to hear.

It says…

Don’t put the book down before you reach the ending

It has not yet been written!


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