In the volume of the book it is written of me

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Sacrifices and offering hast thou not required,
but a body hast thou given me

Lo, I come —
Here I am,
delivered, finally
to this purpose
of living love

For which I’ll need
all the ever present angels
to ride with me,
to guide me,
to let me know
in a way that I can feel it
that I am loved,
that I am not alone

But even if I were alone,
this path is too compelling
to abandon —
My strides bear me upward
to new vistas.
I start to remember flying.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 16, 2014

Photo by Heather Mulhern

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