Regretfully, Yours Truly

You are not all faith or all savage 

You are the in-between 

You are the space between god and the wild 

Between the merciful and the cannibal

You are the in-between

You are the small spaces in awkward conversations

The lulls in piercing quiet

You are the unspoken 

Something shrouded in mystery and dimmed

And now you cannot tell if it is 

Wasteful 

or wistful 

To mourn versions of yourself you have never known

My grandmother 

She comes to me in dragonflies and humming birds

She floats above me colorfully 

In spaces I cannot reach 

Reminding me that I’m grounded 

Down here 

And I feel her interconnectedness in my feet 

And today I am reminded 

To sow my words into dirt like seeds 

So that they can bloom like flowers right out of my mouth 

So that others can realize heaven sent hues and beauty can be found in the spoken 

So that the in-between 

Is no longer a mystery 

Or a dark space with no streetlights 

It’s a garden 

So that I or maybe you 

Can be covered in sunflowers that we grew ourselves 

And abuzz with hummingbirds and dragonflies 

Becoming much less about the things that we cannot reach 

And more about the gaps that we exist in