I can’t paint
the allness of being
on a canvas supplied
by the framers
of the big lie,
Can’t depict
the grandness of good
with the paltry palette
of commercial symbols,
Can’t comprehend freedom
in the confines
of the box of fear.
I need to quiet down
and let the chatter clear
My heart, on its own
will always move toward truth —
It will sink down to it
with the certainty of water
and spread out to it
in the steady drift of clouds,
It will rise to it
as heat moves ever out to warm the cold
and it will settle
in the solid pumping presence
that it always holds
And there, beyond the clamor
of the last condemning voice,
I will meet the Allness
and rejoice.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 7, 2014
