What is it
to be between
the puckered folds
of aloe leaves
and the solar blue
breeze, which lifts
a healing scent
to the sunburned
face? To sense
the space halfway
from a message?
It’s liminal.
The searching
before the loss.
The answer
before the question
and regret for
ever asking.
If the air in the breeze
formed first
in the aloe root,
surely it is part
of the medicine.
The sun-washed earth
delivers its cure
from the same source
that cursed it.
What is it
to be between
so much vastness?

– Steven Duncan