I move silent
in the act of holy opening,
rip of light, all along the edge,
kindled power, tight-roped joy,
a dance in awe of its unfolding
This is how I always meant to move
but never could, while trying, too, to own it,
this is me without the self sense,
bringing light which isn’t mine
except in this surrender
of all I called myself,
in this uniting
with that which owns my love.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 3, 2018
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