They say to go ahead
and feel your feelings,
breathe them deep,
rock and keen,
go down, go down, go through

And that may be more colorful
than this rain-pattered gray,
neither here nor there,
this suspended mist
and the house’s quiet
barely masked by music,
and its emptiness
not half mitigated
by a half-sleeping old man
intermittently creaking the chair

But it’s ridiculous
in my supremely easy life,
my running hot-water,
washer and dryer,
thermostat-heat controlled life
for me to entertain complaint

No right to it,
yet something is required —
A new pursuit of inquiry, some industry,
a project that will capture my attention
Or some new way to look at things
to rescue my infinity,
retrieve it from wherever I have left it.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 3, 2014