Crucible

Oh, these things we are so proud of

and the things of which we’re so ashamed.

these things that cling to who we think we are,

these things we carefully arrange,

These things we call ourselves

and what we call each other

all must melt

in the rising heat of change

And what we are

beneath our self stories,

What we are

beneath all our facades

will seem a small coal

when we first see it

but we will know we must acknowledge it

as ours

As ashes fall away, we’ll see the glow,

and as we hold to it, we’ll see it grow:

It will survive the fire,

it will endure —

It may be faint as yet

but it is pure.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 18, 2015