The wonder of the place
makes you forget stuff,
transfixed, as you are,
with translucency,
suffused with a sense of
the utmost importance,
the tenderest smallness,
of you here now,
you as you never have known yourself
but glimpse that you always have been

You find you forget stuff,
but nothing that matters —
wounds fall away,
and old disappointments,
explanations and excuses, too,
in this timeless
newness of you.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 15, 2019