Little Brightnesses

A little hunger

Or some other sweet need

Stirs me inside

Like a small bird

Ruffling its feathers

And opening my throat

To sing

A little cuddle

A warm chest

On which to rest my head

Transports me

Like bubbles on the wind

To wide skies.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 31, 2011

On Story

I.

Although I know

that story is a tool

with which to carve

the potent wave of feelings

and stir and move emotions

along the course the story indicates

Today

Let me not try

to carve them

Let me not define

with story 

what it is I feel

Let the weather go through me

the rain

the strong wind

that which beats against

the inside of my eyes

And let me be

like a field

that takes in rain

lets it spread deep into the roots

Compels the sudden bloom

of countless flowers.

II.

I once said,

to be without a story

is to be without a home

and you have to go and live

in someone else’s story

a supporting character

who sleeps on their couch

and drinks their leftover coffee

before they wake up

brown ring on the cup

no choice of your own

but now I see

To live without a story

is to live

on the edge that is always unfolding

with new surprises

A story you’ve never heard before.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 30, 2011

. . . and closing

the liquid in the petals feels the pull

and turns

a thoughtful wandering

the call to its core distant

half heard

like bells across many hills

or voices across traffic

they begin

a quiet molecule migration

and the petals close

relaxing from their urgent reach

feeling their own breath

enclosing their own scent

inward and inward

petals meet petals

in handclasp that reprises bud

though there’s enough world inside

they don’t align precisely

don’t seal

dew of day condenses and falls inward

like communion

or swallowed tears

the cloister darkens

petals press together

inward and inward

seeking internal support.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 29, 2011

Surfing

Spirit is the wave on which I ride

from which I carve the cleft

of liquid light

that arcs across my sight and dazzles me

makes me feel

the dew beside my eyes

and in my lashes

taste the spray

on lips and tongue

and breathe a shuddered breath

of piercing joy

Each arc returns

in rippled splash

to the commanding wave

Each moment carves new definition

So the arc continues

the infinite responding to my presence

overwhelming liquid power

showers me

A blessing that I can’t

hold in my hands.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 28, 2011

Cloudscape

Did you know? — A shift in thought

a subtle yes

even a small acceptance

of my deep desire to bless

can move the clouds in me

initiate

colossal drift

of ponderous

cumulus

command a sudden breakthrough

sunlight streaming

send a deeper breath of inspiration

evaporate my cloistered condensation

make me rise, refreshed

embrace the brightness

drink the sun

and open, like a light-infused cloud canyon

through which I’ll fly, with you as my companion.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 26, 2011

NIght Beach

In the time after the sparkles

when the dark waves speak

in their low tones

along the dark beach

and the liquid heat

has drained out of the day

Lean in close

to take in what they have to say

Here in the hush

of night high tide

where water meets the soft sand

and the seaweeds glide

in the last glowing of the evening sky

The ancient secrets whisper once again

No, you will not put words on this

even though you’ll hear and understand

The soothing language of the bay

can comfort you

beyond all reason, or anything you planned

The circle, circle, rock and rush

persistent, peaceful, patient

when you’ve gone home, this hush, recalled

will bring you here again.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 25, 2011

To Edward

Across a course of chaos

where I strayed

by stepping forward

anchorless and unafraid

and eager to take in the possibility

of soaring in the updraft of infinity

You reached me

with a zinging call to honesty

that loosened all the curling twines

that tangled me

You brought me home

to calm and settled clarity

reminding me how you, unfailingly

have been my mirror and my clear pool

I drink from you again and rise, whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 24, 2011

These little things convince me

These little things convince me:

the flowers' affirmation of the breeze
the sudden dart of dragonflies and hummingbirds
the ambience of bees
the constant roll of water shoreward
in and in with no sound of receding
the slow glide of an osprey
and the smell of seaweed
the chirp of songbirds, intimate and sweet
the warm/cool scrish of sand against my feet

these things convince me of my right to ask
for every harmony to come to pass
that all our lives be lifted in a strong embrace
where each of us rides splendid in our perfect place
no more to ever settle for that dark illusion
in which our basic state is thrashed confusion

if all these things are held and blessed
then so are we
our lives in woven light, exalted, free.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 22, 2011

A love poem

Your face doesn’t matter

None of us has a perfect face

It doesn’t matter how evolved you are

For we are all buffoons

It doesn’t matter

How much you worry, how you obsess

Or what regimes you’ve self imposed to engineer success.

What matters is your sweet heart

And your intrepid soul

And that you love.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 21, 2011

yesterday's lost poem

My mind keeps drifting

Lulled by the hum of my heart

Images fly up into the mirror

Turned in the kaleidoscope of sleep

My fingers uncurl

The pen drops.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 21, 2011

Approaching the infinite

Approaching the infinite

Some will chant, some will sing

Some will pray

Some will cry

Some will dance, naked

Some will robe themselves

in flowers and angel’s wings

Some will study, some will read books

Some will build structures

Some will tend crops

Some will climb, some will run

Some will champion others

All will give everything

For only everything is enough.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 19, 2011

Lights

In the dark cave of decrepit stories

We may huddle around the candle flames

of our love for each other

A candle here, a candle there

Carefully tended or carelessly snuffed out

We may wander

looking for another

Another light

Another one to light our candle

But if a chink of sky should show

through some surprising cleft of cave

If it should shine on you or me

I might see you transfigured

by amazing light

Not just the small circle of your face

but all of you lit up

and I would want you.

Or you might see me thus

and want my light

and we might cling to one another

But wait

Let’s climb together

Let’s find others

Make a pyramid

Let’s climb out.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 18, 2011

To each one who loves

The first pebble moves alone

but on its first bounce

it moves three more pebbles

which each dislodge

a few more

until the whole hillside rattles

and stones tumble down

echo across canyons

become the news of the moment

the chain of sound much longer than

each pebble’s arc

So may our love be

the news of the moment

its course inciting many more

Its sound

insistent drumming

rousing many more hearts

to fall in bouncing abandon

into the depths of love.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 17, 2011

After flying

After flying, lungs long to fill again

with that heady inrush of sky

Arms log to carve again

those pillows of cushioning air

To guide the swoop down billows

their own curvature defines.

After humming, heart longs

to hum again

To be connected in the greater flow

To feed the larger pulse

and be fed by a beat beyond itself

Longs to nurture every hope

To say yes to every call for reassurance

Longs to orchestrate

a grand cradling

a deep release

a hallowed hush.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 16, 2011

Buoyancy

How light it is for us to share
the grace of kindness and acceptance
Such a lacy thing
like sun patterns on ferns
like wings and arms of summer sylphs
like laughter of a child
and awed intake of breath
before a mountain vista
It fills us with
the bubbles that make us
lighter than sorrow
bear us up where we can breathe
the sweet and giddy air.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 14, 2011

River

The ancient river hummed within

arousing every chakra

making me one with all rivers

The rivers of the earth

The rivers inside trees

The rivers of the air

The rivers of the heart

One compelling flow

One aligning force

One quickening in the core

One, as all water is one

I looked up

Everything my eyes could see

was charged with rush of river

Silent coursing

Exaltation of life.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 12, 2011

Another Bicycle Song

Sharing a bicycle song yesterday made me think of an old one.  The first verse of it I composed on my bicycle over twenty years ago.  It seemed to me then to express an important feeling - about yearning toward Spirit and trying to figure out how to move with that yearning in the day to day world.  I felt the second verse should offer some kind of insight into the question the first verse stated.  I tried for years to find it, but couldn’t.  Then in December 2004, I found the words to complete it.  I wrote it for and to my sister, since we were gaining great spiritual insight on our bicycle rides together.

I felt, at that time, that my growth in understanding had given me the insight I needed to finish the song.  I remember thinking, I didn’t know this then, but I know now.  Funny, I still find myself saying that.  I guess it’s a function of infinite Spirit that it unfolds ever fresh, so that I’m always thinking that I have finally found the secret, and there’s always more.

Paradigm Shift

A bicycle song for Jennifer

I don’t want to just preach to the choir

There’s got to be something here sweeter and higher

Something’s got to ignite with this new fire

Before the sparks expire

It’s a long way down

And it’s easy, though unbroken

To fade to ineffectual

Before the truth is spoken

And the thing I need to give

And the thing I must receive

Will hold what it means to live

And to believe

Well life tumbles its lessons but the words are terse

And those bursts of insight somehow seem to disperse

And here I am waiting for the second verse

To go deeper than the first

If it’s heaven now

Then your life can be my mirror

The crystal singing sound of it

Will ring me ever clearer

For the light I see in you

Will show forth what is my own

So while whole, unique and sovereign

We will not be alone . . . 

I don’t need to just preach to the choir

For the yearning is of universal desire

Like sparks we go flying up higher and higher

And our fireworks inspire.

©Wendy Mulhern
     December 2004

Permission

This is a song that I wrote while bicycling yesterday.  Well, I wrote the first verse while bicycling, because it sprang up, with its tune, as bicycle songs will do.  I wrote the verse down on the margin of an event program I happened to have in my bicycle pouch.  I wrote the second two verses today, sitting in my garden.

Permission

You don’t need permission

for you always have permission

to be you

You don’t need to worry

for inside you know most surely

what is true

Each moment is a work of art

to which you bring your own true heart

Your heart will tell you truly what to do.

No need to be guessing

if your long-awaited blessing

will come through

Everything you’re longing for

has always been here, and belonged

to you

Within the bud the flower grows

The time will come when it will show

Your garden blossoms plentiful and true.

So across your landscape

May you reap your understanding

Ever new

No need for pretending

for your heart will keep ascending

guiding you

to everything you’re meant to be,

to do the work that sets you free

and shines you forth as royal, pure, and true.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 10, 2011

Liberation

I made my choice

to enter

into my voice

to let my center

spin out and fill that long-time silenced space

Triumphant liberation

to shed off that mutation

the muteness I had donned

as habit - cloak tight drawn

lest I be out of tune, or out of place.

I sang!  I joined the hum

though hesitant at first,

soon, in full strength, with all the music asked

harmonic notes that joined and amplified it

a glow of sound in which we danced and basked

It soothed me, and it added to my courage

in ways I hadn’t realized I needed

It joined me to the others as our voices blended

I entered my desire and so succeeded

I look at life in humbleness and awe

Always a brightening; each day, a new “aha.”

©Wendy Mulhern
July 9. 2011

Heather's Birthday

Heather’s birthday today

What to say about her -

my girl of sevens?

How deep her love,

how unfailing her well of compassion?

How strong her loyalty

how enduring the gift of her friendship?

How wordless her passionate place of perception

What care she takes, in twining words from there

like Inca grasses, wound and wound together

to make a bridge

a fragile-seeming, swinging rope contraption

to speak across the chasm of that space?

Or this: the simple touch

that brings her brother into contact

with his own potential, and a person

who can help him bring it out?

A song in a restaurant, a cuddle at end of day

Laughter, and hugs, and swift glances

of recognition

Family affection unfurled

Priceless delight of my world.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 7, 2011

The poem I didn't write

My poem yesterday

I could see, but it had no words.

It was a mass of tangled threads

looped edges sticking out

on the sides, bright magenta

against midnight blue

 that only showed up a little

as warp might

In between the weft

and it vibrated janglingly

as if under strobe light.

So I didn’t write it.

I went to bed, though that added

to my sense of defeat

Its words were: you have no ideas

no ideas in words 

for a poem.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 7, 2011

Could it be?

Could it be

that feeling low

is itself an arrogance

something sweet humility 

will cure?

Could it be

that feeling like a nothing

is itself a hoarding

of heavy weight, tension and tears

of clamping, cramping thought?

Could it be that though I feel

I need to pile on blankets

of blubbering self-pity

To beg for crusts of kudos

To howl for encouragement

What really helps

against feeling like a nothing

is giving everything

with no concern for cost or gain

no weighing if my mite

might measure up

Just giving

Could that be enough?

©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2011

Summer Evening Grace

As I ride homeward

The sun begins its descent

through congregations of clouds

They reach out to be transfigured

fleetingly, each in turn

While the blessing flows

fleecy hand to fleecy hand

the air is cooler

the evening shadows softened

the pavement glow subdued

Later the sun reemerges

Commanding countenance

too strong to behold

I ride dazed, half blinded

till I slip into the shadow of a hill.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 3, 2011

When nagging and pleading has failed to produce results

You say you’re a musician

Well

I want to see you Soul-jamming

Mind-rocking

Transported

By the melody and the harmony and the

Sweet rhythm

Skating down the riffs

Floating in the joy of creating and expressing

Riding the sound waves

But if the music takes you

Why should I think

I would get a front row seat?

Perhaps you need to wait

Till your own lights guide you

Need to let it get dark enough

That the stars come out

Need me to let you free fall until 

the song catches you in its own necessity

It has to be your own.

©Wendy Mulhern
     July 1, 2011