Morning

Waking up,

you start to see

that there’s no need to go back

among the scattered shards,

the steady ebbing of your fluids

and the halted breath

to find and try to rescue

all the fallen parts.

Nothing is broken

and your being

shines as fresh within this day

as it has always shone.

There is no tally

of all those wrongs,

the generations of remorse,

the shame.

It’s all gone

in this, the morning:

Your name is clear,

your loveliness the same.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 29, 2013