I reckon many of us
would not mind
the end of the world —

The un-quibble-able finality of it,
the sudden change,
the necessary dropping
of the hundred little burdens
we each carry through our days

The excitement of it,
the call of something deeper,
long sleeping, in our beings,
something that would rise up
if only in that crashing moment

The hope is that it would be quick,
not some drawn out monotony of suffering
(though even there we would be honed,
and even there we’d mount the struggle
to survive)

The hope is
we would see
our loved ones again,
and laugh together
about the long strange trip.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 14, 2020