A world made
of everything that happened,
an armature of sighs,
something seen the moment
before I opened my eyes,
not enough time
to make any difference

There may be hope
in the very slightest of things,
the gossamer of insect wings,
the care that has been taken
at every scale where things can be perceived —
we may not understand
but this may help us to believe.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 26, 2019