It didn’t matter how huge
the machinations were, how
overwhelming the structure,
how intricately wrought
the arguments, that testified
to your defeat. It didn’t matter
that they were years in the making,
didn’t matter how many putative forces
had been involved, how many actors
had had their hands in it.

We were told, in no uncertain terms,
that their evidence was ironclad,
that nothing could assail the verdict.

However.

Tide rises inexorably, with power
no sand can ever challenge.
Each meticulously placed grain
is simply lifted in the surf,
suspended in its own singular encounter
with the truth, set down on its own.
No structure is even remembered,
and your innocence, your wholeness,
gleams smooth and clear upon the shore.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 6, 2016

vessels by Jennifer McCurdy, photo by Josh Liebowitz