You don’t need to swallow
the bitter drink of disappointment
even though it’s a habit

You don’t need to close your eyes and nod
while the gall spreads down your throat
and pools of it settle behind your eyes,
and your teeth grind together
in the misery of another brick in your wall
of small

You can set that cup down,
you can bow your head,
you can wait to be filled
the way water fills footprints
in shiny sand

You can insist
on drawing no conclusions
until joy rises up
to smooth your brow.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 15, 2016