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
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.
Don’t put the book down before you reach the ending
It has not yet been written!