Blue Moon, August

(Martha’s Vineyard)

One last warm summer night

Moon I can read by

(well, not quite)

But enough bright water

wind lapped, moon filled

to light up our boat and its sail

Our wake turns in sparkles

beside the bow

The boat trips along through the waves

Night air fills our spirits

with exhilaration

Elixir out-boosting the day

Someone once told me

the full moon will always shine

Push all the clouds aside

ruling the sky

Here, indeed, 

though a choir of clouds has appeared,

The moon passes through them, 

lighting them all.

So blessed, they approach it

They circle, they bow

They frame it, they veil it

But still in remains

To dance with them, kiss them

send them along,

and stand, then, alone in the sky.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 31, 2012

Companion

When I ride

you are with me

You and I together

float above my sight to the left

embracing

while the beach scape

rolls out beside us

and the morning clouds

white after their metamorphosis at dawn

look on

And I feel the satisfaction of togetherness

while my legs pump up the hills

And it’s a shared experience

the way the wind pushes

at my face as I glide down

arms now spread wide —

a well-earned flight —

I take you with me

so your heart will know me,

so our hearts

will recognize each other from afar.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 30, 2012

The Nest of Home

The nest of home

is woven out of love —

So many tendrils necessary

to make it strong

When home is strong

We have a place

where we don’t need

to hold ourselves up

We can relax

into the love of others

and in that relaxation

add our strength

Weave in our own bright threads

to build the home to which we all belong.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 28, 2012

Soul Kiss

For you to take all that you need,

Greedily drinking from the great infinity,

Feeds me, too —

If you have made me conduit,

All that bright strength

whooshes through me on its way to you

So we rise together

Cleaving to the vast eternal stream

In every breath regenerated

Reengaging with our ancient dreams.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 27, 2012

Thanks

To my dear friends

who together

have lifted up

the blanket of my sky

Freed my feet

from its tight tangles

Opened out my sight:

My gratitude

for this expanded view,

this new freedom to move,

and all I see

Fills me full

Fuels my fire

Feeds my fresh joy —

So many sparkles in these days!

Thank you for your light, your shine,

Your ways.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 26, 2012

Late August

Summer tumbles

in somersaults and quick cartwheels

Everyone rushing to have fun

Taste last fine times while sun’s

bright fruits 

still ooze their juices

Night falls faster

Crickets’ serenade continues

Coolness creeps around the edges of the days

Goldenrod reigns

And the scent of dried wildflowers,

And pangs of endings and beginnings

crash into each other’s heels

in a dazed attempt

to brake

against the steep acceleration of the year.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 25, 2012

Naming Power

To call  a system of electric wire “power lines”

is as much of a misnomer

as to call a shopping mall a village—

a deflection of the true meanings of those words

An attempt to distract us

from the potent energetic vessel

called a village

the dome of contiguity enfolding and protecting

incubating, bringing forth—

miracle of mutual support

And the primal lines of power

that we feel

running along our skin

shooting from our fingertips

in bright sparks

carrying the impulses of worlds

in smooth arcs

pulling everything into connection

caressing it calm

singing it whole.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 24, 2012

True Reflection

These are not the signals

This is not the track on which you are fulfilled

Turn away from that mirror

Ask for the inner call

Seek your true reflection

in an ancient tree

or anything you can still find

of earth’s wildness

Pull up, from depths

the memories of times when you were sparked

When that deep surge of your aliveness

rumbled up like magma from your core

Feel the rivers of your inner landscape

rise to meet what you recall

Feel them roaring, thrumming, thundering

beneath your skin

In the glow that they engender

you will see yourself reflected

in the light you see responding

from other eyes

This is the true signal

This is how you know 

what you are,

This is your shape, your shine, your size.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 23, 2012

Destiny

It is no miracle

for Life to put us each

in our perfect place

For grand improbabilities of events

to make us converge

at the right site

and the right time

in the right readiness

to be the perfect gifts

for each other

It is as simple and steady

as the great breathing in and breathing out

of days, of tides

of heat that rises and falls

and vapors that return as rivers

to the sea

All these things accord with Life’s intent

to manifest itself, and so it does —

Our harmony insured

by what Life is:

Its fiat forms the worlds

and also us.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 22, 2012

East Coast Countenance

When you walk

I see how you are harnessed

by the shoulders, by the head

When you look out of those eyes

preset to see

only what is permitted,

furtively scanning for recognition

I feel the burden there

When you smile

Towers of blockage fall

The light of you streams forth

just in a quick flash

and I know

there is hope for us all.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 21, 2012

Dream Dancing

While you’re dancing

on the other coast

I am dreaming

not yet in sleep

though I should be—

dreaming of dancing

not in rooms but in galaxies

currents of cosmos swirling

under and around

curling and flourishing 

at light speeds

where distance is no object

and time not either

and our streaming together

sends great sparks

across that dome that we have called the sky.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 20, 2012

Waiting

The day is holding its breath

No it’s not — that’s just me;

The slate green water, slate gray sky

are moving; a north wind presides

The white swans paddle, 

bright against the matte water

The flat clouds sometimes

send a hint of rain . . .

Nothing is happening

and there is no urgency

No sun commanding worship

No sparkles dancing

No dramatic cloudscapes, no raging winds

No thundershower, no storm

Just the drone of motorboats 

and chirps of closer birds

and the way that waiting

unmoors the craft of time.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 18, 2012

Beauty

(From the biking philosophers’ notebook)

Something compels you

Perhaps the way a substance

moves beneath your fingertips

and you can mold it

Perhaps the interplay of laws

as seen in intersecting ripples

Perhaps the strength of structure

and the genius of form

You must engage with it

You have to notice

Or maybe it’s the summer-long progression

of how a seed pod forms and opens out

Maybe the way a person thinks or moves

Maybe the tracks of time, the marks of history

Or the recurring changes through each day

No matter—

When a thing calls you

and you follow it because you must

And you throw yourself into the quest

to really master, really grasp it

And insist on holding on until it changes you,

You bring forth beauty.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 17, 2012

Wild

It doesn’t matter

when and how it started—

those first moments of the inner wildness,

The ones that stirred you

till you had to notice

Once you noticed

you had to pay attention

Once you paid attention

it had to grow

and will

Till suddenly it overthrows the systems

Colossal though they are,

and comprehensive, and entrenched

that claimed to rule you for so very long

Those systems have no power

against inexorable wildness

that always follows

the laws of your true essence

You will never again be tame

and you will know 

that being good

has nothing to do with following someone else’s rules

and everything to do with being you.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 16, 2012

Being Here

(Mid August, Vineyard Haven)

Cardinal swoops over the roof

Chickadee perches on the screen

Behind the songbirds’ companionable chatter,

Motors roar — boats and planes

Voices rise across the water

Metal masts clang in distant wakes

Smell of onions cooking drifts up from the kitchen

Pale clouds drift across the languid sky

Trees and pond stand still in windless afternoon

There’s space enough between the sounds

for each to take their turn

Later come the crickets

till the soft warm rain silences them

Though it can’t silence

the beat of party drums and tunes

and dance laughter

from the town across the pond.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 15, 2012

Alchemy

Here is an alchemy:

Not lead to gold

But led by the golden

glow from within

that homes to its source-light

steady, unerring

Here is the alchemy

that we behold

as we leave the old focus

and step forward, bold:

This light-washed vision,

All dullness resolving

till everything shimmers

in life’s vibrant tones

This is the alchemy:

Not something changed

But something conceived anew—

Radical point of view

Suddenly lightyears from what we’ve been told

What we had thought was so

Now so illumined

everything that we see

is gold.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 15, 2012

Going away

The days trip merrily

like mountain streams

collecting memories

and undone things

Pooling deep

in new hopes and dreams

Leaving so many intentions

helplessly behind

Then suddenly

the cataract of imminent departure

approaches, and the urgency speeds up

and as the last tasks get tumbled into

or left behind,

In the swift pause before the fall 

I find

a sweet tug:

Gentle pangs of coming separation

Stretching out the net of our connection

All is well

It’s good to feel this pull

It shows

that even from afar we’ll know

the movements of each other—

Each other’s dreams

Each other’s yearnings

Each other’s tidal swells and drops

Lending a harmonic chord

to everything we do

Heartstrings’ duet—

A kind of double view

to all our days apart:

Stretched across the span of time and space

We each will thus hold one another’s place.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 12, 2012

In this lifetime

In this lifetime

There is no “not”—

Sweet soul,

Though worlds may seem to wheel

beyond your reach,

Great stars blinking

lightyears away

Though your high teachers

may seem to move

behind a veil

which no travail

can pull you through

And though you’ve felt you failed,

with nothing more that you could do

Rejoice, for this lifetime

— long enough for every dance of grace —

of galaxies, of atoms;

too short for any tedium —

each moment needed, magical —

Has every joy that you can dream

And calls for you to claim it,

Own your name:

In this life

there’s time

for all of you to shine.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 11, 2012

Angels

Angels, like rainbows

come in the mingling

of rain and sun

of need and that which always stands to meet it

Angels come

because of ever present Love

that shines through driving storms of doubt

refracting light, illuminating, blessing

lending striking beauty to the dousing

Angels glow through you, they glow through me

We shine forth as our splendid halos hover

So we stand transfixed

at this most precious gift:

The way they make us angels for each other.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 9, 2012

Daily Poems

Every day has a poem in it

— That little girl starting to run,

short-stringed kite two feet above her head

Her mom, walking behind her, smiling

(colors: pink, purple, red)

— That man on racing bike,

his smile denoting deep contentment —

Each of these are poems

though only briefly intersected here

Clouds dance along horizon

reminding me there’s more

than the smell of tar,

the roar of motors;

There are

Echo tunnels on the trail,

A chalk-drawn paean to Love

(now almost washed away)

And a delighted Downs boy with a dog

The sun begins to cook the day under the overcast

The coolness sighs and looks for places to lie down

The wind bears thistle fluff along

and sets it in the river

Small girls with their grandma play around

Every day has a poem in it

I only need to dip my head in

like these ducks

Reach beneath the surface,

Pull it up.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 8, 2012

Reclamation

After the voice of scorn was banished

Other voices began to rise

tentative at first,

but gaining strength from each other

The voice of wonder

The voice of “of course!

You have a right to joy;

Of course goodness is the organizing principle!”

The voice of liberation

The voice of exaltation

The voice of a continual elation

Realizing every silenced hope

could claim its place

and start to sing again.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 7, 2012

The meaning of hope

For those of you who never found

in the box of proffered choices

anything that fed your soul

Who turned back sadly 

While others raced towards goals

for which you had no interest

For those of you who never thought it fair

to have to settle for the duties of the day

Who couldn’t bring yourselves to care

for all the regulations of the game

Though voices of authority intoned

“Grow up, assume your role, and play”

Take heart, for that same discontent

Reveals another world beyond the game

A place where all your heart’s desires are met

Where what you are receives its right acclaim

What you must give may not be found in stores

May not be priced and parceled, stamped and screened

But it is real, and when you bring it forth

It starts to map the world for which we dream

Each of your earnest hopes affirms the presence

Of your beloved, unarguable essence.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 6, 2012

Twilight, Green Lake

Down under the trees

We watched the slow darkening

of green leaves

against the blue of sky

viewed from below

while evening’s glow

settled on the lake

And we had no hurry

We had time to rest like stones

Releasing the day’s heat into the night

And we could speak in low tones

Close enough to hear each word

To feel the peaceful rise and fall of breathing

And the ease of shared feeling,

Understanding rising as the light receded.

Relishing the much needed

stretch of growth together

Like these trees that gain their inches

in the dark.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 5, 2012

Homing

The water is homing

Carving deltas in the sand

Delta for change

though this is timeless

Water homing

A grand joining

from every place where it had seeped

at high tide

Water flowing

in zigzag patterns of the moment

through the sand

Pooling in our footprints

Dissolving them, but halted

for a time

in the impressions

Water like multitudes, molecules

Each called alone

Moving together as one

Water like 

us claiming our freedom

through the simple act

of moving as we are called.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 4, 2012

Seattle Summer

There may not be a way to find a reason

why these delicious days are rationed —

Whether to preserve their fragile, fragrant freshness

or the eagerness with which our skin receives them

Or whether it’s designed to keep us guessing

Or ready us for some exquisite blessing

in some other realm.  No matter —

The brilliance of today

will leave a mark across the summer

Shine its golden rays

over many cloudy cold ones

Teach us to embrace it

and every potent sign

of imminent awakening,

each glimpse of the divine.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 3, 2012

Prayer Circle

In the cooling evening

In  the circle we had drawn

and sanctified by what we each had shared

In the space before the moonrise

As the sun departed softly

We united in our silent circle prayers

High on the hill, accompanied by kites

We whispered our desires,

We held them to the sky

And then together, when we all were ready

Sent them seven circle rounds and home

The common movement’s unity

The confluence of fervency

The power of our prayers

The comfort of community

Became a catalyst, I’m sure

(Beginning with each consciousness here present

Continuing with each one we each touch)

For something that, unfurled

Will now transform the world

In each of our perceptions and beyond.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 2, 2012

We are called

We are called to liberty

Called to serve that thing in us

that levitates

that lifts

that fills us with the power to leap

to fly

We are called to joy

and nothing else

has any voice nor sway

No tales of heavy burdens or their virtues

No tales of guilt or prices we must pay

No tales of lack of worth or ancient shame

Can stand the test of truth or win the day

We are wired for liberty

And only that

Can spark our motivation

Only the call of joy can make us rise

So proving it to be our true salvation.

©Wendy Mulhern

August 1, 2012