By Becky Holland
There are seasons in life when it feels as though you’re waiting for something, but you can’t quite name what it is.
It isn’t exactly fear. It isn’t exactly hope.
It’s that strange place where your heart feels unsettled, where your mind keeps searching for an answer that doesn’t exist. Maybe it’s the lingering weight of grief. Maybe it’s the uncertainty that comes with change. Or maybe it’s simply the quiet realization that another chapter is waiting to be written.
This poem was born from one of those moments.
The Space Between
There is a strange country
between yesterday and tomorrow.
It isn’t grief,
though grief has walked these roads.
It isn’t joy,
though joy has left a light burning
somewhere in the distance.
It is the place where your heart
keeps listening
for a knock at the door
that may never come,
or perhaps
has already begun.
It feels like butterflies
without a first love.
Like standing backstage
before anyone calls your name.
Like the first day of a new job.
Like an unfinished sentence
waiting for its final word.
Maybe nothing is wrong.
Maybe a soul
that has carried too much
for too long
simply forgets
what quiet feels like.
So it mistakes peace
for a warning.
It mistakes stillness
for the moment before the storm.
But what if…
What if this flutter
isn’t fear at all?
What if it is hope,
stretching after a long sleep,
remembering
that life has surprised you before?
Perhaps we spend so much of life
waiting for the next chapter
that we forget
there is holiness, too,
in the page being turned.
We cannot yet read
the words on the other side.
But we can trust
that the Author
has not put down the pen.
Today,
I don’t need an answer.
I don’t need to know
whether tomorrow brings tears
or laughter,
heartache
or unexpected joy.
I only need to remember
that not every trembling
is a prophecy.
Some trembling
is simply the heart,
still brave enough,
still hopeful enough,
still alive enough
to believe
that somewhere beyond the page,
something beautiful
might yet arrive.
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