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*1. Voice practice where the syllables of notes are sung, silently in your own mind..
2. Healing sounds

She lives in the in-between
The hollow that divides dreams from reality
The space between the notes on the page
And the sounds of the music they represent.

She lives somewhere between past and future
But nowhere near the present, because
To live in the moment means she must have feeling
In her body and she is numb.

She lives on the hyphen between her two names
And with each passing day, the space constricts until
She’s pressed flat like a leaf
Ironed between two sheets of waxed paper.

She lives in the ether, her molecules turn to mist
Evaporating in a hiss on the red hot screen
As her words break open and crumble
And fall like shooting stars through the pitch dark sky.

She lives on the wire strung between then and now
Never glancing down as she juggles her selves
Like china plates on wooden rods
Waiting for one, or all to fall.

She lives trapped between who she was
And who she will become
A crack in the calcified fetus,
Growing inside a dying woman

We’re all dying, you know,
She thinks she hears someone say.
But she isn’t certain.
This place where she lives can carry no sound
Other than the voice inside her head.

Marsha Pincus is a post-mid life woman, riding the Age Wave and writing for her life.

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