There’s nothing new about this longing
How it rolls up, like mist across a lake
And hovers, haunting and etheric
Obscuring the horizon with its grey
This urgent need for contact and belonging
Cries out for feeding, many times a day
A quest for soft, shared heat, and mingled breathing
A constant call, that doesn’t go away
We once were weaned, or so we may have thought
To self-sufficiency, a virtue (so we’re taught)
But to remember, once, this grand connection
Sends our sufficiency to forge a new direction
To weave our lives so we can be together
In comfort and in shared support, forever.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 12, 2013