The ladder takes me up to where?
A too-small portal waiting there.
Still, rungs are there, so I must climb;
No matter what I find this time.
There’s something missing in this view;
Behind the camera holds what’s true.
Perspective matters here, you see;
The picture’s incomplete for me.
I only see what’s through the lens,
And do my best to climb and cleanse.
Cleansing… Water! That’s what’s lacking;
Fill the pool, much less nerve-racking.
Still can’t answer “question one”;
Climb the ladder – then I’m done?
As you can see, and so can I,
Top rung leads to new “stand by”
We’re always in between, no ends;
Get to the top – new climb portends.
Maybe portal grows in size,
As it gets closer to my eyes?
I’ll never know ’til I ascend;
The ladder’s there – I must! The End.
Of course it’s not the end at all;
Just climb, then climb, and climb – or fall.
And last but not least, our daily optional prompt. Poetry often takes us to strange places – to feelings and actions that are hard to express except through the medium of a poem. To the “liminal,” in other words – a place or sensation that exists at or on both sides of a boundary or threshold, neither one thing or the other, but something betwixt and between.
In honor of the always-becoming nature of poetry, I challenge you today to select a photograph from the perpetually disconcerting @SpaceLiminalBot, and write a poem inspired by one of these odd, in-transition spaces. Will you pick the empty mall food court? The vending machine near the back entrance to the high school gym? The swimming pool at what seems to be M.C. Escher’s alpine retreat? No matter what neglected or eerie space you choose, I hope its oddness tugs at the place in your mind and heart where poems are made.