Liminal Spaces (a poem)

What is this enchanted place?
You look as though you’re my killer
But no, you’re the savior of those
Lost to tendrils of dark philosophy

When I saw imprints of the Psalms
Tattooed on your grizzled face,
I knew straight away you’d save
Me from this god-forsaken place

Thank you, and please accept this
Token: the blood-soaked hand
That barely understands the
Liminal spaces we exist in.

Author’s Note: The first line of this poem is from “The Dream Play” by Derek Mahon.

(Photo from Wikimedia Commons – Dead acacia trees (Acacia erioloba) in Dead Vlei, near Sossusvlei, Namibia – 1997 – by Desertman)


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