No, please —
(as I see you from afar,
drifting down the currents
of someone’s strenuous persuasion)
Remember what you had —
Remember how we both
filled with that so-tangible light,
heart-homed, rising more massively
than magma,
shining through our eyes,
making that visiting booth a lantern
that poured its brightness into all my life.

I know I always went away euphoric,
my joy so well fed,
my faith so anchored
by your stand for truth.
How can you forget?
How can you leave that light
for cold logic, dry texts,
and an old excluding story?

Come back —
(I ask you, knowing
I have no traction
except the hope we planted together
which has spread into a great field
in the time you’ve been gone.)

©Wendy Mulhern
January 11, 2014