I wrote this just after Beltane during the eclipse season in may of 2022.
I'm returning to it as we enter into the darker months
as Samhain approaches
as the veil thins
and I become more comfortable in the in between.
Sitting in an in between
Where there is more darkness than light.
A glimmer of insight and hope with each flicker of the flame.
The dark is abundant
and consuming.
The in between space.
Holding my breath before going under water.
Squinting to see.
A walk into the mist.
In the in between.
Where it's hard to tell man from horse
Woman from serpent
Person from otherworldly being.
In the in between.
What shapes shift,
What becomes of us
In the in between?
Is this where we crumble from the weight?
Or learn all that we can be,
Embrace all of who we are?
Or maybe
This place isn't about learning,
not about action.
But being, observing.
Spending time with the shadows
and the flickers of the flame.
With the mist,
the submergence.
With what we can't quite see.
With those who shift shapes.
Observing.
Listening.
Being.
Maybe I can dance with the shapes and shadows.
Maybe I can breathe under water.
Maybe I don't need to learn how to be a shapeshifter
because I've always been one.
It's just that shapeshifting is called
crazy
and difficult
and too sensitive
and weird
where I grew up.
Where shadows are just as plenty
but they remain hidden.
Kept secret.
Weighed down by fear and shame and ignorance.
Maybe the in between
Is where I've always longed to be.
But this place, where I grew up,
taught me to be scared.
To fear the in between
and what I may discover.
What the mists, and depths, and shapeshifters
[that my ancestors held as sacred]
would show me.
About me.
About what can be.
So here I am
In the in between
Being me.