“Glad I could help,”
says the smiling corner
of my daughter’s mouth
After she has talked me through
two cycles of distress.
A robin sings outside the jail.
I think it must have come
to comfort someone
up there in a cell . . .
Inside, the guards are friendly:
“Need some stuff irradiated?
— Here you go!”
And through the glass, upstairs
I feel a spirit-heart connection.
Shafts of sun break in
from time to time, upon the day
Calm settles, and I write the needed letters.
Little things rescue me.
It doesn’t always take epiphany:
Sometimes the quiet confluences
are enough
to stop the crisis and reset my screen.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 16, 2013
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