This poison
has brewed a long time
and it has been spewed
on us before
but the concentration
of bitterness at its target
still surprises
Is there healing for this, even this?
Is there a way to grant permission
for the righteous spite
that eats away, finally, at itself,
to simply be set aside?
— A hold so tight, a sea so deep
that even this one
would be compelled to let go,
to let Love take over?
And what of me?
Can I find a safe harbor to offer
in my thought,
for this one’s homecoming?
©Wendy Mulhern
August 6, 2015
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