It could be fall.
What could befall?
I will not allow
the course of my life
to be turned

And yet land falls beneath me,
a sinkhole, a swallowing,
the sudden downward shift  –
how to maintain footing?
And where can I land?

An image has been forming,
appearing, as out from fog,
solid, but only sometimes seen –
a citadel, a rock to stand on,
a place that will not shift,
that will stay with me,
whatever changes ripple through,
whatever seems to disappear

I will learn to feel it
under my feet,
I’ll learn to find it,
and I’ll stay here.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 29, 2022