• Nance Harding

In the Mean Time*

Updated: Apr 5


I know there’s not much left

I’ve done the math, I see

the lines, the sags, I feel

the aches, the pains,

the losses, the gains.


So what to do with this shadowy

in the mean time?

Purple doesn’t look good on me.

Too much yellow in the skin I hear her

say through a white chicklet grin.


I say do nothing to be the light

of your own magnificence!

Quietly rise up within

remembering from where you came.

A watery cave is where we all begin

as we return to the mother from

without and within.


Worship the mystery of who you are

and where you’ll be in the far and far

away place we all call home.

The heart of where we all come from.

Strip the wheat from the chafe

drink the milk so sweet from

the teat of loving kindness.


Let the earth be your mother and

the sky be your father.

Make amends, plant a flower.

Make yourself ready for the final hour.


Then watch the leaves turn in color

as they luxuriate in their own splendor.



*Poem previously published in Depth Insights: Seeing the World with Soul; Issue 9; 2016

Image: mine


Nancy A. Harding, MAHS-LPC

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