This Goodness

This is a slow learning,

to unclasp the grip

let hands relax

let go of trying

to hoard a share of good,

enough, perhaps

to shield me from my fears

This is a slow learning —

in time the breath grows deeper,

there are more before the gasp —

I start to find the space

to take in calm

This goodness is not mine to own,

to pull inside, to hold, to use

to stop the gaps within

Instead this goodness

is what holds me

and sweeps on through,

filling up all the emptiness,

flooding out the fear

as much for everyone

as for anyone 

(me too)

slow or fast,

right here.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 13, 2017