Oh, these things we are so proud of
and the things of which we’re so ashamed.
these things that cling to who we think we are,
these things we carefully arrange,
These things we call ourselves
and what we call each other
all must melt
in the rising heat of change

And what we are
beneath our self stories,
What we are
beneath all our facades
will seem a small coal
when we first see it
but we will know we must acknowledge it
as ours

As ashes fall away, we’ll see the glow,
and as we hold to it, we’ll see it grow:
It will survive the fire,
it will endure —
It may be faint as yet
but it is pure.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2015