I stand on the threshold,
a life I no longer recognise behind me,
the future unformed,
like mist before dawn.

Everything I once held close
slips away quietly
objects, habits, even the home
that has cradled me for years.
It is still here,
yet no longer feels the same.

There is no visual,
no shape as to what comes next.
Only a knowing deep, intuitive,
that what approaches will fit me
in ways the past never could.

In the meantime, I prepare.
Clearing space, discarding the old,
guided just by instinct alone.

I hover here, between,
neither anchored in the life I’ve known
nor stepping into the one that awaits.
It’s a quiet suspension,
like the pause before the first breath of morning.

Sometimes I grow impatient.
I want to see it, touch it,
the life that’s waiting.
But I trust it will come.
There is a rhythm to this,
and I have learned to listen.

Between two worlds,
I stand, inhaling deeply,
feeling the quiet dissolve of one life,
and the soft promise of what lies ahead.

For now, I wait,
open,
ready.

– Stacie Amelia 2024