It is the starting point,
the quality of every impetus
Not something hoped for,
waited for, a distant endpoint,
not something to emerge
(perhaps) after travail and sorrow
(Though it does emerge there,
being unsuppressable, waiting,
always, for the point when,
drama spent, we pause from flailing)
Joy wins.
It is the trumpeting
of everything we are,
not tied to loss or gain
but simply here —
the life force pulsing us
through every day.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 20, 2016
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