Liminal Theater

Fear brushing the edges of my heart as I faced becoming a mother.

Behind the Concession Counter

Learned to pop popcorn without letting it burn from one of those old-time popcorn carts with the glass sides and the metal kettle suspended inside.

Or perhaps it is simply words that inspire and stir in the quiet between you and I.

He boxed up our joy. Years later, visiting his home, I saw the idol again— being used as a doorstop.

Agency was always mine—inner knowing, intuition’s quiet recognition, the soul speaking through the heart.

Black pools we hid beneath, unseen, but the moon kissed our smiling faces.

My family was patchworked, wounding sewn into the seams.

My instincts are for me first, then they guide my actions so they can be chosen with consciousness.

October begins my descent into darkness, internal and eternal.

He loved teaching us about the land, and we listened with our whole hearts.