Liminal

In my trawling through the net, I came across a pair of blogs written by a woman who calls herself "The Pioneer Woman." In addition to having a witty voice and great blog, she is also a fabulous photographer. She has run several contests to have her readers name various of her photos.

I can't come up with pithy one line captions, but the photo she posted of her daughter seemed to me so full of yearning, that I was inspired to write this poem.

Liminal

Reflected in the dawn's liminal
light, she is younger sister
to the moon, her dreams
a thicket where the stag
eludes the royal hunt. She doesn't
understand what she yearns for;
troubled by the echo of horns
she longs to follow, certain
the door will be closed
when she arrives, breathless
on the threshold. I want to tell her
the moon will wax and wane again
next month, next year. Wait.
There is nothing
but this morning and a rising wind,
hoof beats fading in the distance.

--LJCohen, 2007