I could be coming to the point
where progress along the ground
becomes impossible,
where my feet no longer
can reach down, can find traction

And it doesn’t matter
that my brief hopes
to be a speedy runner
are dashed,
It doesn’t matter either
if the ground ends
just a few yards ahead,
and it may not matter
that I don’t know how to steer

This is not in my hands,
not in my feet either.
My heart is going home
so I guess
it has to bring me along.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 19, 2015