Between Here and There
I don’t know the name of
that space between one
life and another—
between here and there.
When the leaves of your life
have fallen and you wait
for the spring bulbs
to emerge from the
crack in the soil
or your heart.
The night calls it twilight,
and the day calls it dawn,
that precious space
that means not yet—
Is there a name for the space
before the tide turns and
the dark circles mark the beach?
Or before the curtain falls and
the bright lights show our tears?
What do we call the
part of us that continues
reaching—
to pull ourselves up
to standing, again
and again?
Does it have a name?
Like kindness, or daybreak
or God?
© 2025 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD