Gentle

The gentle laws that hold us

don’t need us to understand —

we can have wildly different concepts,

we can have our faith placed

in all manner of nothings,

we can be full of worry

for all the ways those nothings let us down

The gentle truth is not impressed

by where our minds may roam —

whether we fall or climb,

whether we stall or rage,

whether we pine or ponder,

or place is still assured

The stillness, somehow,

will approach us, will wait,

will be there when we pause,

will catch us up in welcome arms,

settle us in 

to where we’ll know for sure that we belong.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 21, 2019