We all curl back from everything
we have called our days,
we all roll up in recollection,
in gratitude or in misery,
in peace or in regret  –
at this grand reckoning
none of that even matters

All the names we called ourselves,
and what, reflecting those, we called others,
all our fears, facades, and tears
fall together, tumble in
to be smoothed, to be cradled,
to be rendered

And what we all become
is all we’ve ever been
and everything we’ve dreamed for –
what we are has proved itself to be
our ticket home.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 26, 2022