The Allness

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