The In-Between

Inhale as you dive from the cliff,

not on land, not in water.

The weightless apex of a sudden rise,

not climbing, not falling.

The uneasy sway of a moving truck,

fully gone, but not yet arrived.

The lull after turning your new key,

but before stepping into another life.

The elevator ride from the decorated lobby to the midnight roof,

a sacred vacuum of pause.

The flash between “5, 4, 3, 2, 1…” and “Happy New Year!”,

a hinge connecting anticipation and becoming.

Driving with a roadtrip ahead in the windshield,

your past shrinking in the rearview.

The pregnant pause between the squeal of tires,

and the shattering of glass.

The space between feeling someone and seeing them,

suspended heartbeats held in tandem.

The flicker when you catch their eye, but before spoken words,

stillness between now and what may come.

From “Do you love me?” to their reply,

A breath laced with hope and dread.

Between their glance and “I love you”,

a fragile crossing toward the future.

The second before you know the relationship is ending,

a “what if” poised on the edge of “this is.”

Between their glance and a fist to the face,

the void widening into no return.

The grave “Well…” before the caller articulates the blow,

the blurred penumbra between light and dark.

The click before the bedroom light reveals your partner with another,

the air knows before you do.

The moment between the doctor’s entrance

and her ominous words, “You have…”

The death rattle before the silence,

tension suspended before the sinking.

The emptiness between vibrational notes,

like in DMB’s The Space Between, where sound surrenders to silence then swells.

No neat conclusion. No final outcome.

This resolution ends, as it must, in the liminal between.