Retile my past —
take all those broken squares,
those incomplete perceptions,
those ways I failed to see
the truth of being,
so I can understand
through present windows
that nothing in my life was ever missing

Is not this grace —
what wipes away without a trace
the meted consequence,
all our indebtedness?
— and in its place
reveals the fruit that waits
ready to satisfy
when it is seen.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 2, 2019