The Liminal Place

We arrived here together, me and her, and I do not know how to be here alone. I am as rigid as a frightened doe. I long to feel supple, but my brow is always furrowed -- I am always worrying, and these tears, they are leaks. I see the little girl with a candy-striped apron that matches her mommy's, and suddenly the sky is ripped off. My ship is departing, and this is not my land. Everyone else is foreign, unrelated, not made of me. Then I lay down beside Alfred and contemplate loving him, and I am whole again, a woman for both of us, me and her.