As suddenly as the turn of a day
the things we used to see in you
are gone — you are
an egg, an infant,
a night sky,
the things we think of you
no longer filtered
through the lens of our perceptions,
no longer judged
in the tally of the game

In this transparency
we see you pure,
untouched by all we knew of you
and all you knew of you as well —
you roll out of your form like liquid
ready to collect
in a new chalice.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 23, 2017