I can’t walk easy
along the paths I used to walk,
hedged by familiarity,
bordered, more distantly, by fear.
I can’t pursue the old hopes,
flanked by worry, with the protections
of bravado and blurred vision

I have to walk
now as ever
in the clear bright world
that has always been here, too —
a plain without paths,
a presence without arriving,
being caught up in the offering
of myself, like a mirror,
to the light.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 8, 2018