this in-betweenness

this in-betweenness

this slow gathering of everything into boxes,
everything that made this house our nest.
each moment that grew our love here.
every drift of zephyr that held our sighs and dried our tears.
shafts of sunlight that teased us awake every morning
and moonbeams that sieved through our curtains on fullmoon nights.
our little girl’s tiny feet on this naked floor
all the walking. running. jumping. and knee grazing.
the devout cooing of pigeons outside our window
and the kindred sky with its offering of splendid hues and evening stars.
and all those precious garden visits,
seeking play, peace, oneness and a song for every season.

now the walls are becoming bare,
leaving behind only stains of memory and beauty.
and i’m tender with uncertainty and hope
as we wait for our new home to find us.

. . .

wednesday, evening
the sixteenth
māgha