Where is Awen?
It is where I find myself riding that wave between the earth and the sky
and in the magic between the lips of two who are about to have their first kiss.
It is in that gap between my fingers and the keyboard,
In that instant just before a baby takes his first breath.
It is on tip of a dragonfly’s wing,
And the space between a mountain and a valley.
I find Awen in the break between the beats,
The pause in the breaths,
The gap between sleepy eyelids
And in the spot where a tear falls.
It is the anticipation that lies between the preface and the introduction
And in the tremble of the end of a deep base note on my djembe drum.
(and at that tippy place where it’s edge touches the ground at just the right angle).
Awen finds me.
In that second between wake and sleep and then between sleep and wake
And in that moment when I turn my aging body from one position to another in the middle of the night.
It is at the edge of a blade, the tip of a knife, the pierce of the skin.
It is in a single note (high or low) and in the point where the two notes blend.
It is part of the touch of a spider’s foot on her web and
That moment just before the baby cries in the night and just after his last sigh when he falls back to sleep, full of milk and softness.
It is at the end of the best novel you ever read,
and in the stretch of your muscles when you pick up your child for the last time before they become too big to carry any more.
It is in the turn of a reel,
the retrograde of Mercury,
the beliefs of the righteous,
the call of the dammed,
the switch from over to under and outside and in.
That is where you can find Awen.