In the volume of the book it is written of me

Sacrifices and offering hast thou not required, 
but a body hast thou given me

Lo, I come —

Here I am,

delivered, finally

to this purpose

of living love

For which I’ll need

all the ever present angels

to ride with me,

to guide me,

to let me know

in a way that I can feel it

that I am loved,

that I am not alone

But even if I were alone,

this path is too compelling

to abandon —

My strides bear me upward

to new vistas.

I start to remember flying.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 16, 2014

photo by Heather Mulhern