Liminal Spaces
A Message from the In-Between
I've been pondering upon
Liminal spaces,
Those in-between places
That are not quite real
And seem out of sync
With time and tide,
The allies and backdoors
And breezeways that serve
As passage for people
Who are coming and going;
A train station at night
Or towns that exist merely
As respite for travelers
Who rarely stay long
But leave fingerprints and
Impressions that stain,
Ghosts against the grain.
There's a feeling of foreboding in
Deadends and abandoned attics–
You must mind your footing
Lest you fall through the cracks,
Disappear into the Neverwhere,
Forgotten, a dream that fades
At break of dawn.
--.".--
I think maybe I need to
Find myself in one of these
Lost places, in order
To rewrite my story.
Because I'm tired of
The self, the image, the ego,
I'd like to rebuild
From scratch the world
Society provided for me.
Yearning for holy deconstruction,
An unlearning of
Preconceived notions
That no longer serve.
I'm ready to forget
All the rules and walls I've
Set up, surrounded by expectations
And regret. I'm more than
They thought, and I want to
Release the idea of 'enough.'
So, excuse me while I
Step inside this mushroom ring,
Feast on pomegranate,
And surrender my name
To the first fae I meet.
About the Creator
Bex Jordan
She/They. Writer. Gardener. Cat-Lover. Nerd. Always looking up at the sky or down at the ground.
Profile photo by Román Anaya.
Instagram: @UmaSabirah
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More stories from Bex Jordan and writers in Poets and other communities.
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (19)
Truly masterful, just discovered it. You enter the threshold spaces of self and world in verse so dexterously. I'm new here, give my poems a look if you get the chance. Congratulations on the prize.
I love the emotional journey in this poem - it starts us off with displacement, emptiness and ends with embracing the magical. Lovely! And congrats on the contest, Bex.
Wonderful.
It's not every day you read of liminal spaces and faery rings. Intriguing and beautiful, and a lesson we can all learn for growth. Subscribed, and looking forward to more!
Through re-reading this multiple times I relate to it more intensely. Perhaps you’ve found a way to put into words the stagnant feeling I’ve felt in my own life for years. I now identify with the last few years of my life as being trapped in the Neverwhere. You’ve reassured me that being on this journey through the Neverwhere was and is necessary and meaningful and a part of me now… that everything is going to be okay.
I never saw the ending coming and I’m in love. I’ve recently watched some videos on the explanation of liminal spaces. I enjoyed the excellence of the words you have curated on the topic. Very deep and personal.. there’s depth to it that I don’t fully understand and I appreciate that.
A trip to take, indeed. This is in interesting and entertaining read!
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i really can relate, great composition!
A great poem to read in the early hours in a rain storm when you're experiencing some existential angst yourself. Powerful images and an elegant clarity. I really like the cadence produced by your line breaks and syllable patterns. Well done!( creepy ending - will we or you really know who you are anymore ?)
👍💯❗❗
Creepy but an interesting poem good on you.
Awesome poem.
Very much enjoyed this poem — read in the liminal space of new year.
Lovely and oh so relateable!
Absolutely astonishing, I’m in awe
This is great! I only just recently learned about the concept of liminal space, but this is really well-written. I love the way you connected it to feelings of being stuck/tired and depicting the liminal spaces as some sort of erasure or reset from the world. At least that was one of the ways I interpreted it. This is deep and thought-provoking, I love it!
good
Great poem, Bex! Anthropologically, Arnold van Gennep is the one to read on the cultural significance of liminal space. I love "backdoors" in your first stanza, because the word liminal is derived from the Greek, "limes" (pronounced with two syllables) meaning "doorposts." Speaking of the Greeks, your classical allusion to the pomegranate in stanza two is just perfect, as the myths associate that fruit with passing between worlds. I'm sure you're aware of the above, but I just wanted to note it here so that other Vocal readers would see how carefully crafted is your poem!
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Love this!