Moments
of laughter,
chatter,
tears
and joyousness –
All replaced
by waves,
ocean,
the trickle
of a fountain
warm,
gentle air
that
lightly
touches my skin,
the banter of a winged friend
that I cannot see,
the flit
of a hummingbird
that moves past my gaze.
The trees are all still dancing
to music
I’ve not heard until now.
They are in the liminal place.
Waiting to welcome
the weary,
new compadres.
Elizabeth Young is a two-time modern elder from Hanover, NH. Journaling, writing and poetry are a few of the ways she drops into that sacred place of essence. She wrote this poem on her last day in Baja this past Sunday, as members of her cohort were dispersing. There was a notable stillness on campus and an opportunity to pause and lean into that liminal space.