The place is very crowded,
People here for many different reasons,
Some seem happy talking laughing,
over their lunches and coffee.
Some pretending everything is ok,
Yet underneath knowing that soon,
Well just soon……….
Best not to speak of it,
Just enjoy this day.
Though it is strange
Being in the in-between,
Neither here nor there,
a no-man’s land,
lonely amidst the crowd
firmly planted in the here and now,
not even knowing of the in-between.
Life seems vaporous,
Colors at times overwhelming,
Knowing soon they will not be seen again,
Making them precious,
Not taken for granted
When passing them by.
At others things are grey,
They shimmer,
Blink in and out,
Well sort of;
As if they were about to disappear,
Moving into black.
Of course no one understands
Unless they are in this in-between place,
An area more temporary than the other,
For here the flower is uprooted
Just not yet wilted,
Dried up,
Dust in the wind;
soon very soon……..
So they laugh,
Talk,
Are alone amidst it all,
Their hopelessness hidden,
Seeking to spare loved ones pain,
Though they long to speak of it,
Just no one ready,
yet,
perhaps never.
Yet something beckons them;
Small whispers heard,
Something of promise,
Giving hope
In a corner with no way to turn.
If trust is there
And faith allowed to take root,
Hoping against hope,
That after a hard life
Filled with sorrow,
Pain,
At times despair;
Yes along with joys as well;
Hopefully
That now as the boundaries dissolve,
There is something more than just endings,
Perhaps there is a new beginning
And the small whispers can be trusted
Over the other loud inner voices,
Saying no.
Yet one can say yes,
The door always open
Perhaps it never closes.
So amidst the noise,
Laughter,
Loud talking,
Much goes on hidden.
The human heart deep
Filled with secrets,
That perhaps only the soft quiet voice
Whispering hope,
Really sees and understands.
In the end we all must wait,
Our turn will come,
At least for most,
When the in-between becomes our world.
Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO
Holy Spirit Monastery
