with thanks to Rebecca Mullen for showing me the doors
And if a door closes
before another opens,
well, sometimes in the hall
between those doors
I find the precarious beauty
that can only be met
when I am not quite safe,
not quite certain, not quite
a self, and yet wholly here.
I’m talking deep field beauty—
a liminal beauty that refuses
to be named.
This is what it’s like
to learn to trust—
to live with one arm forward,
one arm back and feel
marvelously stretched,
the heart perilously opened,
like a sunrise, like a wing.
LOVE this. Expect an “after Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer” poem to soon appear…
thanks, Cait … oh these in between spaces …
Oh I love this! It speaks to so many places in a woman’s heart. Thank you, Rosemerry. x 💜
Joy, yes, that’s it exactly–all those between places, all those tugs, all that learning and unlearning. thank you for sharing your response!