Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Emerging




Gaze into the atmospheric eye
Until it draws you in
Drives you through its shadows
Where the forces push you
Downward, onward
Through the sheath of rain
Into the after-mist
To float in distant gathering of light

Choose your transformation
Any one will do
The dreaming earth
will softly turn
beneath her blanket
But for you
wide awake and streaming through the changes
it will be
Initiation into mystery.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 29, 2012



Tuesday, February 28, 2012

After Healing


After healing
When the skin is so new
So pink
When the soft breath of every air current
kisses it, wakes it up
You may be cautioned
not to touch the spot too much —
Fresh blood not far below the surface

After healing
When sobs have ceased
And breathing is now smooth
When eyes have cleared
And hope and peace and shifted paradigm
have stilled the turbulence
You may be cautioned to be quiet
Not to think about the story now

And yet the urge to stand up in surprise
To run, to leap, to stretch out that old limb
which for so long had seemed unmovable 
May overcome all prudence
And the joy of feeling
reintegrated
fully woven into the essential fabric
of life
with every movement seamless, rippling
effortless
Will send you soaring
in the all-embracing wave of oneness

And it won’t matter
how new the skin
how recently the tears have ceased
Because the fresh source of your strength
pours in endlessly
and it’s enough
to replace all memory of the ill.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 28, 2012



Monday, February 27, 2012

Weight and Lightness




Nothing in this world —
Nothing —
Not houses, not credentials
Not webs of friendship —
Has any strength to hold
the steady falling of the heart

They break like spider silk
against its weight
And it will fall right through
until it feels
the centered force of its own gravity
Until it slows
in thoughtful drift
and feels the atmosphere that gathers
meditatively
around its presence

Everything in this world —
Everything —
Each sense of home, each memory
Each smile exchanged —
Has grace to hold
the precious light that shines upon it

Grace to catch that light
and shine it forth
and be illuminated
Light that has no weight
That sits so brightly
on each snow crystal, each
hair of thistle down, each poised hope
that meekly lifts itself
into its own being.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 27, 2012

(background music: Isaac Shepard, "People and Puddles")

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Sinning and Rebuttal


As I was reading over the poem I wrote today, I thought, huh, I don’t really believe that.  So I wrote a rebuttal.  In the end, I think there’s room for both perspectives:

I. Sinning

If I shoot many arrows
I will miss the mark
far more often
than if I shoot none
So much to learn:
How to align my stance
The arm that holds the bow
The one that draws the arrow back,
My eye . . .
Some of my arrows may not even fly
And some will fall so wide
you couldn’t even tell
which target I had tried
The ones that land in the intended haystack
will be my early victories
and I may hit the target by and by

They say the verb “to sin”
derives from archery
and means “to miss the mark”
Well, let me sin, then
and often
and wildly
Let me fall colossally
if that is what it takes
to live a life that zings
that’s vibrant through and through
If that is what it ultimately takes
to be true.

II. Rebuttal

The sinning poem assumes
That we are separate from grace
And must attain it incrementally
By many times of falling on our face
This is a thing we’ve been so deeply taught
It’s hard to separate it from our thought
Hard to imagine lambency, perfection
Or certainty, or peace, or clear direction
And yet, if once we’ve felt the light arise
That lifts our heart from sorrow into joy
Delivers praise and wonder to our eyes
And liquid harmony into our day
We can believe that even without work
We can stride forth at once and hit the mark.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 25, 2012





Friday, February 24, 2012

Imbolc


I wrote this poem on a bike ride near the beginning of the month, when an unusually balmy few days appropriately heralded the seasonal return of the light:

Still water of the winter river
Deep moving but surface smooth
Clear reflection with a subtle shimmer
Brown, bare trees thrust into blue
Moon ghost floating in a cloudless sky
Sailing low, so pale, alone
Bikes and skaters glide on by
Through air that’s soft and warm — sun owned
Its scent enticing us to dream, to yearn:
A day to celebrate the light’s return.



©Wendy Mulhern
February 3, 2012



Thursday, February 23, 2012

The worth of a life



What is the worth of a life?
Is there a metric for this?
Consider the sun on the water
The sparkling path
which always presents itself
right where you are:
Each sparkle is for you—
the meeting of light with your eyes—
Though others see sparkles too,
they aren’t the same ones that you view.

What is the worth of a life?
As if you could separate 
One life from all others—
From the sun’s sparkles, isolate one
Take it away from the sun . . .
What is the worth of a life?
There is no measure for this
No way the question can make any sense
It’s worth everything that there is.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 23, 2012

(background music: William Ackerman, "Anne's Song"

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Manifesto II: Tipping


The old story must
fall away like a husk
for it is too dry
to sustain the living—
those who now stride
into their own

Since there is no place for them 
in the old story—
No job, no niche, not even 
one small joy to suck on,
They will turn
and find their sustenance within
and with each other

And those who managed the old story
may try, once again, to recalibrate—
Give them just enough juice
so they will stay
But it’s too late
The load has tipped:
With a grand whoosh
all the piled up lies
will slide into oblivion
And we will put forth
our new green.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 22, 2012








Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Enfolding


I circle in and in, into myself
to find this:
A place where I can hold someone
A way my being may enfold, enwrap them
A place that holds them till
The firm press about them
defines their growing edge 
and they reach outward
hand following hand
body surface rising to meet my touch
As I release
they take flight
I swirl around them
So we dance
This is a thing I need
to do every day;
Thanks for this one
Tomorrow,
Give me the place 
to do it again.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 21, 2012



Monday, February 20, 2012

Walking Wordless


Your smile is full of light
And isn’t this enough?
Do I even need to know the words—
The actual traces of your conscious thought?
If I asked you, would the things you said
Lead us away from this pure shining
Back along the worn out paths of stress?

In case it would, perhaps it’s best
For us to walk in silence
The smile light still is real
Whatever words line up behind it
And maybe we can find this layer of light
And live our lives along it, never leaving
Never dipping down into the blight
Of all the things we used to think had meaning
Perhaps it’s here that we unite
Not in opinion, not in words agreeing
But in the brightness of our shared delight
The source towards which we all are leaning
I may ask what you’re thinking in a little while
But in this moment, let me keep your smile.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 20, 2012



Sunday, February 19, 2012

You have to be grounded to fly


You have to be grounded to fly
As kites well show—
Resistance from their strings
giving the wind the force
to push them high
Which if released would let them fall
slicing tip-wise 
through the layers of air

You have to be grounded to fly
As birds well know—
as they push off against the gravity
that holds the air that cushions them
Through which they carve their flight
with sharply honed intention
and the slipstream of their glide

You have to be grounded to fly
As planets go
through space, 
their molten centers coalescing force
The silent concentration of their cores
connecting them in orbit to their stars

And so it is with us
Within our deeply grounded center
is born the power that sends us forth
on arcs of soaring splendor.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 19, 2012



Saturday, February 18, 2012

The need to be witnessed


It is not too much to ask
to have someone to take
by the hand
To lead down corridors
of memory, experience, imagination
To say to: look—here’s a picture of me
as a child
And here’s the song that still reminds me
of that summer back in ’78
full of sun and angst and wild escape
And here’s a thing I learned in Italy
along the streets of Florence

It’s not too much to ask
to have someone who keeps
a special box for treasures
tucked in an honored place
inside their mind
to put the things you share
and take them out
and look at them sometimes

And yes, you’ll keep a treasured box
for all the things your friend has shared
You’ll take them out in gratitude
You’ll love them, since you care

No need to strive for some
prescribed degree of fitness
It’s not too much to ask 
to have a witness.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 18, 2012



Friday, February 17, 2012

Convergence


As words come to me,
my receptivity
rises up to meet them

As my seeking for a way to bless
ranges out across my consciousness
Your arms extend a place for it to rest

Such bliss! To meet in the convergence
My need to give, your willingness
now, to receive
In this, your hunger blesses me
and meets my need

The figure loops, we spin around again
This time you give, and I receive
But then
Perhaps as current flows
dynamic, into one
Our pulse, too, unifies
and every boundary
becomes undone.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 17, 2012



Thursday, February 16, 2012

Chasing love


After much pursuit
(sun through trees rendered strobe-like
by my frenzied pace)
Desire made wild by the elusive flitting
of something always held
just out of reach,
I wake—
Jolt of awareness:
That which I’ve been chasing
is right here
and it has never been withheld —
By nature, it is infinitely present
Though I may miss the rush
I also like the flood of peace
that comes from knowing I will always
have enough.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 16, 2012



Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Shelter


A house of cards
A house of straw
A house of words
What gravitas can they afford?

A bold, invented self
Or even one that hides
And only tells itself its little stories
How can it feed the hunger of my soul?

I’m rendered quiet
I don’t even have two cards
To lean against each other
No straw that isn’t old and wet and mildewed
No words to form a self-respecting cover

So I go and dance
I build my house of arcs of reaching arms
And light that flows between each darting glance
All filled with music and the moment’s charms

And if my gesture shelters someone else
And gathers others as its moves unfold
I, too, will find a shelter for myself
In that sweet harmony
The dance can hold.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2012



Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Soul Retrieval




No, no,
This is not the promise you were given
Mountains of detritus,
Self-enforced confinement
Stress and tracks of weary years
Across your face

No
This is not your course
The clock-enforced conformity
The envious and jealous stabs within
Reflexive judgement,
Passing down the curse
Of being conquered

However much the rules you’re taught
claim to control
You never could be severed
from your soul

Hold with me now
Together, let’s sing your song
It leads you back along the lines of longing
To where you've always sensed that you belong
We’ll all converge there jubilantly thronging
At home as if we never had been gone

Let our eyes now feed each other's embers
Resurrect our light so we remember
What had seemed so lost from us, so far
Who we’ve ever been
And who we are.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 14, 2012


(background music: Max Richter, "Embers")

Dancing free


There are natural ways
for things of different type to separate
The wheat from chaff with weight and agitation
The silver melting free in fervent heat

What then releases our presuppositions
that hold us stiff and stressed and isolated?
What focuses our sense of truth conditions
that home us to the joy for which we’ve waited?

A centrifuge, a tone, an ionizer
The kindled heat between caressing hands
A touch of grace that leaves us kinder, wiser
A place we feel we have the right to stand
The light that sparks and rises from connection
Illuminates our timeless, deep perfection.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 13, 2012


Sunday, February 12, 2012

Beam me up . . .


The place beneath my breath today
is full of lights
Brilliant as pointillist dots
that seethe and swarm and dance
and form a scene
too close for me to see
But when we sit together
Lights reflecting lights
and multiplying
Then the scene appears
So clearly scrying
That which lifts us up
and sets us flying
out beyond old limits, fear defying

So many lights! Lighter than air
Light enough to lift a whole dream
into lucidity, light enough to stream
through solar systems
Light enough to beam us
Beatific
Pulsing clear and true
across the night.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 12, 2012



Friday, February 10, 2012

Serving Light


In this temple of the dance
You can put off your shoes
and join the sacred rite
Enter anonymous into the holy trance
to be a vessel, bearer of the light

(You’ll choose it for the way
                                        the light transfixes you
         Fills out your being, flowing from inside
                   against your skin
                                              suffusing you
         until you glow and radiate
                       and float in brilliant bliss
                 across the room)

Moving then in service to the light
Your eyes can touch another’s, and ignite
The signal can be passed from hand to hand
Each one who joins will cause it to expand

You may come back to find your boundaries shifted
Your thoughts now finer, softer, lifted
Buoyant, like all things light has sifted
You’ll see yourself anew as blessed and gifted

(Not that you ever have to look at it this way
This is the work, but it is also play!)


©Wendy Mulhern
February 10, 2012



Thursday, February 9, 2012

Thirty years ago today


(To Edward)

Thirty years ago today
in Philadelphia
I awoke to a quiet that told me
snow had fallen
Magic blanket that kissed the ground
and faded
in time for me to take
my one-pedaled bicycle
and ride (in my grandmother’s skirt)
to a dance I had never attended
where, in a mixer
your eyes twinkled

So I came and talked to you later
leaning against the wall,
standing by the chair where you sat.
Unpracticed and hopeful,
I asked you about yourself
Dazzled . . .

Together we had enough money
for two Dr. Peppers
which bought us a table at Carney’s
and time to talk
Our voices alive, our hands animated
Leaning towards each other —
Intentional community
Bell curves, affinity . . .

You drove me home
(my bike in the back)
Our parting kiss held a promise
“I like your ideas,” you said
thus assuring that I would take interest
The rest, well
The rest was destiny.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 9, 2012



Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Love is a Decision


Feelings are so fickle
Love is much more than that
Love is a decision

You may wander
into the room of oneness
where you see the wonder
of infinite connection
You may want to match
all your points of unity
To line them up
one along another
and follow the diverging vectors
out to new dimensions
broadening the scope of who you are

You may try
to anchor down your feelings in reality
Negotiate a steady reciprocity
And if you don’t succeed
or if you do but later it becomes unsprung
Your feelings will not hold you there
They turn around, or simply float away

Love is much more than that
You may wander any day
into a room of knowing oneness
Love is the decision
to stay.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 8, 2012


Monday, February 6, 2012

Idols




Winds of Spirit
Sweep my thought
It’s time to cast out idols
Those who ask for time
Those who ask for blood
Those who ask for tiresome daily ritual
Who say they have the power
to save my sorry life
or, if I fail to worship,
occasion my demise

But they know nothing, and their mouths can’t speak
The life they offer is anemic, weak
And Spirit shows me, right here, what I am
Exposing all their noxious threats as sham

I will not worship
the god of appearances
I will not worship
the god of social norms
I will not worship
the god of shopping bargains
I will not worship
the god of health concerns

Winds of Spirit, sweep my soul
for I am made to worship 
what is true and whole
That frames the space for all that’s free and wild
And holds us each as Life’s untrammeled child.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2012

(background music: Max Richter, "Haunted Ocean")

Saturday, February 4, 2012

The nature of my needed lighter touch


(in nurturing the music in my son)

Today I saw music
as it lit
(iridescent angel)
on the tip of sound
Tracing its bright melody and swift delight
Sending its rich pulsing through the ground

Today I see that music
doesn’t come at coarse commands
of sharp regimentation
nor years of dogged discipline and work
For, sunken under critical dismissal
How can the magic of the sound emerge?

But rather, music rises from
the gentle kiss of close connection
of the grace that is one’s being
with the grace that is the song
A lighting in the joy of it
A natural touching down
A cross-time current drawing out the tones
of all that’s beautiful in kindred souls

My job then: to protect
the sphere of space in which the music can appear
To let it grow by feeding it
with light and approbation
so it’s free to flit and choose to land right here
Where its reverberation will be clear.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 4, 2012