Hard walking, this,
as among the rolly stones along the beach —
worse, for sharp edges reach to snag,
and mire beneath them
is often quick, and my foot
sinks down unexpectedly,
and no step can be sure

But I will keep walking,
I will not stop for
all the cluttered claims of pain
or the searing cold of sudden doubt
of things I’d held so sure

This much is clear —
The act of moving is itself a strength,
and little joys still shine
from unexpected places,
and the investment over many years
of what I work to carry —
attention, faith, discipline —
will pull me through.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2014