In the color, in the music,
in the soft light,
I couldn’t say how I was different

Something like a dark steady draft —
wind tunnel through me like a canyon
whistling along the crevices
indicating a deep passage way
cleared in a couple of hard nights,
something swept away by floods, by winds

Exposing geologic layers,
making space for more wind,
heavy, sweet with rain,
to sail through

All of this is held in the sacred darkness —
few people knew anything had changed me,
and even if they had the story of it,
it wouldn’t capture
the holy, windswept truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 27, 2015