borderlands

The borderlands or the thin places, as they are called in Ireland and Scotland, are the places where the sky and the land meet, the places of water and mist, and the spaces between the the realms of the living and the spirit world.  Yesterday, I did a poetry reading and book signing at Black Hills Books and Treasures here in Hot Springs along with another author, Randy Luillan, a novelist.  Though our styles are different, our content and expression of our inner and outer landscapes and journeys, have much in common. In the moments after our readings, the audience of about 18 inviduals, spoke about journeys and insights, regrets and dreams that haunt, and adventures still to come. We created a lovely circle of connection of old and new friends. It was a very rich afternoon.  

This morning, reflecting, I thought of borderlands, of the places that I love, the cleansing and renewal that repeats throughout our lives. The borderlands tug at us and redeem us, in ways we could not have expected or predicted. Borderlands are beckoning me now and I won't turn away.

borderlands
 
​
in the borderlands, the thin places,
waves crash upon the shoreline
weaving fingers of quiet ripples
into the cove, staying there
in tide pools teeming with life
 
the borderlands welcome the mist
that lives in shadows, that clings
high up in cedar branches
and shrouds the face of the mountain
in heavy damp mystery
 
in the mist voices of heron and raven
and owl, disembodied spirits of
ancestors, fragments of long-forgotten
dreams and unanswered questions
call out their stories
 
the thin places, the mist, the stories
expose old habits laden with fear
and hesitation, dragging leaden feet
and weary hearts in their wake
like old wooden boats
 
the mist, always true to itself,
will rise, will fade, will transform
the waiting into what is next
leaving openings in the thin places,
the borderlands of fingers of hope
 
- © 14 march 2016 pab -