Pat Aitcheson writes, poetry

the space between

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image by gr8effect via pixabay

 

I’m looking for somewhere.

Somewhere between the in and the out breath. The place where a tossed ball hangs in space, suspended, not falling, not rising. The place between thought and action, between seeing and recognition. A pause before the sun slips wholly below the horizon, a moment where the planets align. The lull between one heartbeat and the next, right before the song starts. Or just after it ends.

I’m searching for a place.

Somewhere to press a wildflower and forget it, to tuck a tiny note to my guardian angel, to bury a wish. The seam of a jacket fashioned from dreams, where hopes can be left for safekeeping, in whose pockets nameless shiny seeds jostle with downy feathers. Somewhere insubstantial thoughts are rainbow gossamer in the breeze. Somewhere the clouds come down to break my fall, bearing me aloft, caressing my skin.

I’m searching for somewhere, a place to hide.

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