It’s said, “nothing is new under the sun.”
One stupid moment — months of work undone
Regret shrugs on a robe of anger and gets up
to storm around. Knocking down the shrines
of time together, snarling, stumbling —
hands too numb to put a thing to right
So who will save this house? What prayer
can piece together shards of broken care
can lift the tender, trampled stalks
can bind them so their heads can stand again?
Hush, hush. Lie down. And let the bed
take over, for a time, the work you left
Surrender to the will of what compels
the roots to sprout, the seeds to lift their heads
It won’t be you who shines the rainbow through
but you will see it on your land made new.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 24, 2011