I try to make sense of things,
I weary of mazes,
My mind keeps running them anyway —
What someone might have thought,
What I did and said, and still could say
I let it go
I pick it up again

Must be a cultural chasm
with no good way to understand —
There can be several explanations
all of which make someone wrong,

There must be some way
to put my mind at rest —
I try to gather us,
I try to see us all as blessed

It comes in moments
It comes in images I feel
Where I’m empowered,
Where I can fly with what is real,
Where I can swoop along the shimmers
on the rising face of waves
And I can see the way we can connect

Not in negotiations, expectations,
Not in how our lives should intersect,
Not in what we owe or what we earn
but in the sense of home
to which we all return.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 13, 2014