I tear myself away from the pictures
so many times a day,
sickening and sad,
grief hanging with the edge of rain
on my windshield,
on the ledge behind my eyes —
Where can we turn now,
How did we drift so close to checkmate?

I look for solace in the colors —
winter reds of shrubs against storm gray,
dark trees against the sky,
I look for comfort
in the words of friends

These send me where I need to go,
down to the depths of my roots
to find the place where life
is ever coiling
to rise in its own strength,
to claim its truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 10, 2014