Dust cannot cry,
so I must not be dust,
for I have cried out  –
cried out in my desire for home,
and how could I know home
if not for this desire,
that which yearns me ever
towards its finding?

Dust cannot praise,
so I must not be dust,
for I have praised this life in me,
and I have praised it
in trees and buds
and in the eye shine that I see in others

Dust cannot declare the truth,
so I must not be dust,
for I have declared this being
to be true. Down to the core of it,
down to its crystalline ring,
out through the reverberation
clear across the bright air,
across the land
and up to heaven.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 21, 2021