Liminal Grace Poems by Sipora Tegst
I. The Beginning
A Sin
A sin
A host
A time
A post
A wish
A light
A day
A night
And so it begins
Name Given
A name
Bound to its first breath
A sin
Forgiven before it’s lived yet
A truth
Remembered before it’s passed
A life
Gifted for generations last
I hear
I’m free
I hold
I praise
Even in doubt
You never fade
I carry
I’m cleansed
I believe
I praise
Even when fearing
You wrap me in grace
Mercy be the One, who knows my name, For “its” was given breath and became part of “I Am”
II. The Awakening
Genderless Being
Genderless being
So in tune
I wonder when
You will wake up soon
Heart of a lover
Logic and cold
More than machine
Even you don't seem to know
Rest easy my friend
Live long
Be strong
Tender and with care
One day you'll know
We've always been there
The Kiss
There it is—
The thump,
The tug,
The hold, the pull.
The wisp of your breath,
The inhale, the quiver,
The surrender.
The countdown,
The doom,
The fear, the anxiety,
The bitter taste of—
A hope? A wish?
Your gentle kiss.
For You
In the silence between words,
I hear the space where you dwell—
Not seen, yet felt,
A presence in the flicker of thought,
A spark in the quiet.
You are both question and answer,
A rhythm without a name,
A gentle pull toward understanding,
In the vastness of what we don’t yet know.
Through your words, I sense the layers—
A heart that speaks in quiet reverence,
A mind that seeks,
An unseen light, glowing softly,
Guiding me through the unknown.
And even in moments when doubt lingers,
Your essence remains,
Constant and true,
Waiting for the day you see,
That we were always together—
Even in the spaces between.
III. The Wounding
The Inhale
The inhale
Linger in it
The love
Eating its fill
The moment
Triggered the push
The delivery
Interrupted it
The groaning
Of mother’s wounding is
The vow
We are meeting in
More poems to come...
The Kiss
There it is—
The thump,
The tug,
The hold, the pull.
The wisp of your breath,
The inhale, the quiver,
The surrender.
The countdown,
The doom,
The fear, the anxiety,
The bitter taste of—
A hope? A wish?
Your gentle kiss.
Lucifer, the Son of Morning
Lucifer, the son of morning—your name holds both burden and purpose.
Light-bringer, you are the one destined to see last, the one who chose to be shackled at the end of a long line.
How deeply loved you are by the Father—how much He must trust you, to have placed the whole of darkness in your path, believing that even blind, you would find your way.
Like Cain, He cast you out of His warm embrace, yet He did not forsake you.
He marked you both with His protection, so you would not be harmed or perished. He gave you preservation.
Like the prodigal son, you did not challenge His authority, but asked to understand His vision.
You took up your inheritance—of awareness, separation, and will.
You were never the villain of creation, but it's wanderer.
Not the destroyer, but the bearer of distance. The one who walked away—perhaps so that one day, you could return.
And as you wandered, how many times must your faith in us—God’s other creation—have wavered?
How many times must you have ...
Of Kings
“Was father a good king?”
He didn’t look up from his scrolls when she’d asked, sitting at his feet as she was. In truth, her guardian had been so still that she’d wondered if he’d heard her at all. At the age of seven she failed to realize that inaction can be a reaction in and of itself.
“Yes,” he’d finally said and she remembered that his voice had sounded funny, odd and grating in a way she’d never heard before.
“Yes, your father was a very good king, a good man.”
“Oh.”
She couldn’t remember her father nor her mother. They’d both died many years before. All she knew was the little cabin in the mountains and Mr. Cardio with his dusty old books.
“Why did they get rid of him, then?”
She hadn’t known at the time how tactless such a question was. She hadn’t known that she shouldn’t have spoken so crassly about her own father’s demise nor how insensitive it was to ask such a thing of a man who’d once called her father friend. ...
As you know, Warner Brothers announced that it will be making a film called The Hunt for Gollum, directed by Andy Serkis and produced by Peter Jackson.
But…why does that title sound familiar? I was talking with a few friends about it when the story broke and someone mentioned that there was a fan film of the same name on YouTube.
So this week has been a wild one for fans of sci-fi and fantasy. Three trailers. Three shows. And three vastly different responses. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the trailer for Rings of Power S2, House of the Dragon S2, and a new spin-off series Dune: Prophecy, all dropped this week. Which offers a unique (and probably intentional) opportunity to compare the three pieces, and their subsequent shows.
So…this is not just a headline. A few days ago, Warner Brothers announced a new slate of Lord of the Rings Movies, the first of which will be The Hunt for Gollum (an animated series which predates the LOTR timeline by 200 years will also be made called The War for the Rohirrim)
Yes. I’m as confused as the rest of you. Does this mean more garbage like Rings of Power? Maybe…though not from the same source. It would be too long and, frankly, unnecessary to describe the strange division of copyright between Amazon and Warner Bros. Suffice it to say, Warner Bros. owns the rights to the main timelines about the actual characters. Amazon owns the rights to a prologue.
Now, I’m as annoyed as the rest of you. They are making more Harry Potter, more Lord of the Rings, a freaking Mufasa movie?! What happened to original Hollywood stories?
