This is the hundredth post on my blog. Not the hundredth poem, as I’ve sometimes posted two at once. I decided to start by quoting the hundredth psalm from the Bible:
Ps. 100
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.
Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.
Know ye that the Lord he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise:
be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting;
and his truth endureth to all generations.
Recently I have found great joy from the feeling that, rather than being comprised of a material body, my being is an impulse that moves along in waves of oneness with the harmony of the universe. The more I look at the world, the more this seems to me to be so for everything I observe. That is the subject of the following sonnet:
What we are made of
The world is framed in elemental waves
the vibrant patterns every movement follows
the undulations rolling through the forms
of squirrels, snakes, whole flocks of birds, one swallow;
The gracious give of tree limbs in the wind
the water’s lullaby against the shore
the ebb and flow of cricket song, the hum of bees
reverberating ring of crystals deep in caves.
We find these very waves define our arcs:
the impulse as we launch into our stride
is carried, wave on wave, as we continue -
harmonic pattern on which we then ride . . .
How could we frame ourselves particulate
feeling these waves that all our moves articulate?
©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2011
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