Dust can’t array itself
against a river

No amount of intricate
setting of snares
to catch and defraud,
to frame and denature
and marginalize
have any power
to halt or turn or block
in any way
the quick and vital current
of your being

Dust finally
has nothing to say at all.
The river of you runs clear
and wild and full,
loving every bank and turn and fall,
singing of its cause, its source,
its all.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 4,  2021