Sometimes it seems
a small misstep
can punch me right through the floor -
not into free fall
so much as into hobbled stuckness
One misspeaking
can rip the whole fabric
of our mutual understanding,
leave us hugging at our rags -
efforts to mend it just make deeper tears
There is no hope
but to step back
to where I'm formed anew,
and from there, let my eyes reframe
a truer view.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 3, 2020
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