The gentle laws that hold us
don’t need us to understand —
we can have wildly different concepts,
we can have our faith placed
in all manner of nothings,
we can be full of worry
for all the ways those nothings let us down

The gentle truth is not impressed
by where our minds may roam —
whether we fall or climb,
whether we stall or rage,
whether we pine or ponder,
or place is still assured

The stillness, somehow,
will approach us, will wait,
will be there when we pause,
will catch us up in welcome arms,
settle us in
to where we’ll know for sure that we belong.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 21, 2019