Waiting

I wait for inspiration

as cedar boughs wait for dawn,

foreshadowed in a subtle definition,

a whispered dark emerging

from the darkness,

imperceptibly gaining clarity

until they stand in silent, muted green

And then suddenly

dawn blazes through,

lights them up with gold,

suffuses them

with incandescent glory

I wait, for 

sure as dawn,

it will come.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 30, 2014

“I will gather them”

The internal call is promised —

There is no one it will not reach.

They will be called from within

by their own truth,

by the imperative of their life,

by the enduring fervency

of their love

They will not stay scattered,

each one thinking 

what they are is not enough,

that it’s too much to ask

for their gift to be valued

to the point of being able to sustain

They will no longer close off hope

as if it were a wound,

won’t lose themselves

in efforts to conform

They will be gathered

by the radiance

of everything they are.

It will lead them to the circle

where all the light is magnified

and they are celebrated,

and nothing will be wasted,

and there’s ample room for everyone inside.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 28, 2014

Foibles

Perhaps my biggest foible

is to try to hide my foibles:

If I succeed

I have no safety net,

no understanding hands of friends

who have learned how to catch me

when I fall

And when I fail

(at least, at times, it’s been like this)

I am the last to know,

the last to see, with grateful eyes,

those steadfast and ironic hands

of friends who know this foible

and don’t tell me,

kindly shielding me

from the imagined fall

of seeing I’m not perfect after all.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 27, 2014

Solace

What can I give

to comfort you

when you are hurting?

I know through trial and failure

there’s no help

in sharing implications of my world view,

the fine-tuned systems

of my mental geometry

And there’s no help

in psychological analysis

or offering the latest theory

or the hottest healing fad

But I can stand with you

in the quiet of my own thoughts

and I can hold

my vision of your wholeness,

I can witness

the hidden strength within you

that knows how to lead you

to what you need.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 25, 2014

Now

Time to stop talking about it.

Time to wait for the understanding

to catch up to my words,

Time to think about it . . .

Time to stop thinking about it.

Time to move, with my hands,

into the thick of it,

Time to walk into the air

and engage with each breath,

Time to interact,

Time to be this truth,

Time to heal.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 24, 2014

Transition

rain falling like grace

falling grace

the rain can’t fall from —

as every drop falls,

grace is what stays

soft melting edges —

somewhere, the will disappears

and the form begins to meld

with what it’s pressed up against,

yielding, yielding itself —

a bleeding from form

of its essence

till form dissolves

while the essence now flows

with new purpose

and insistence

down the next fall line

into the next crack

onward with ever-seeking

curiosity 

into the next adventure.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 23, 2014

A secret key

Every living thing —

any given one —

can be a spark —

They need no pedigree

to qualify

Any light

can lift you from the dark —

you need no name

to call it by

The images of dream may leave their mark,

smudging out the brightness of your day,

may tell you there’s no reason to embark

on what will likely hold

no goodness for you anyway

And when your own ignition

seems completely spent,

your shiny hope beclouded,

your intentions bent,

You needn’t go back under

to see where they went

for any living thing

can bring you out.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 22, 2014

Life Water

We start drinking

life water —

We take it in

with our eyes

and our pores,

We feel light,

We feel strong

We drink truth like water —

Truth that cleanses us

from all the years’ deposits

of calcified projections,

judgement, disapproval,

years of manipulations —

all those vain attempts

to make us be machinery,

polished on the outside,

programed,

silent

We drink life water

and feel the eager

expansion of our minds,

the bright embrace

of our reawakening —

Our breath, our limbs

now so responsive

to what impels us

from within.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 20, 2014

A Reflection

It’s not what I look like

but how I see

that makes me shine,

that makes me me

It’s not what I know

but how I hear

that makes my course of action clear

If I go out without a pre-made script,

free of opinions,

I can be equipped

with emptiness that’s able to receive

whatever cries for gathering,

whatever needs

to rest and grow, and to be seen,

and bring its latent gifts

to vibrant being

Not how I see myself

but what I give

will feed my spirit

and make me live.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 19, 2014

Gifts of Light

Light dances in memory —

Images form from ripples

Under closed eyes

Scenes resolve, dissolve

All the harvest of the day’s sights

jostle and arrange themselves, 

parade

brightly down the path

that leads to dream,

weavings of pictures

forming themselves into story,

crafting a narrative

for the ambient sounds

There is joy in this,

Joy in the surfeit of beauty

that springs from each frame

of my eyes —

Everything, all day long,

So rich to look on,

Plenty to pour through my vision,

enchanting me 

all through the night.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 18, 2014

An Evaluation

Eventually I noticed,

by the echoes,

that my voice was in a small box,

buffeted by louder competing voices,

coming through in snatches

mostly unheard

I reflect on the absences

that brought me to that place —

the drive, on automatic,

the walking, with a sense

of obligation more than eagerness,

a sense of fatalism,

more than bearing witness to the truth

Yes, I was there,

and my being there was nominally good

(there is a value, after all, in showing up)

But at any time

I could have gone through

the other door in consciousness,

where nothing has been mindless

and the holy purpose

of everything

aligns us 

with the present unfolding

of the blessing we each can offer

and each receive.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 17, 2014

In the volume of the book it is written of me

Sacrifices and offering hast thou not required, 
but a body hast thou given me

Lo, I come —

Here I am,

delivered, finally

to this purpose

of living love

For which I’ll need

all the ever present angels

to ride with me,

to guide me,

to let me know

in a way that I can feel it

that I am loved,

that I am not alone

But even if I were alone,

this path is too compelling

to abandon —

My strides bear me upward

to new vistas.

I start to remember flying.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 16, 2014

photo by Heather Mulhern

Divine Law

The divine law

has never sentenced you —

It won’t exact a penalty

of suffering,

It won’t impose a shroud of guilt

or shame,

It never has decreed a world

where you must bow,

a laborer where no one knows your name

The infinite has always celebrated you

in ways no person

can fully comprehend —

Their little glimpses 

— the glimpses we call love —

are just a pale reflection

The divine law

has established you

with all your singularity

and all your grace,

upholds you royal

(just like everyone)

in your exquisite timing,

in your perfect place.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 15, 2014

Mind and Love

The mind set free

turns naturally

to love —

Love’s expansive joy,

love’s boundless curiosity,

love’s keen attention to each fine detail,

each grand connection

The loops that chain the mind

hem love in, too —

The criticism, and the painful weight

of envy and comparison and judging

But they can’t stand

when love expands —

It breaks their loops

with sheer exuberance

And fills the heart with light

and sets the mind to flight

across the infinite and still unfolding realm

that is its home

when love is at the helm.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 13, 2014

Urban Farm Tour, Greenlake Swim, Home

We traveled through the day

between the stripes of

too hot to think

and the refreshing cool of shade,

of deadly red lights in the sun

and backyards under pleasant trees,

and found our way through afternoon

And now

something in the smell of lake water,

still refreshing in my hair,

and how the late sun reaches in,

illuminating limbs within the shadows

of that tree across the street,

something in the prospect 

of the mellow rise of evening

fills the moment

with sweet well-being

drifting on the gentle course towards sleep.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 12, 2014

Wheat, Tares, Chaff

In the growing, in the harvest,

in the winnowing,

love is the only tool

Life’s circles, and life’s cycles

are respected —

the small rain on the tender herb,

the showers on the grass,

the tares and wheat, side by side

before the harvest,

letting life flow up

from sprout to blade,

from stalk to seed —

All things that are alive

are sheltered, hallowed.

In the time of harvest,

when the seed is finished

and the stalk is done

and the casings have performed

their vital work,

When everything except the seed

grows dry,

Then comes the winnowing

when chaff is blown away,

while all those life-kernels, 

protected and aided till they reached fruition,

remain —

Love’s masterwork:

encapsulated power of life

to rise again.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 10, 2014

Motion

Motion makes connection known —

Trees with their shadows,

ripples with the sources of their color

The joyful dance of parallax

reveals a harmony before unseen,

And branches, rustled, show

the deep dimensions of their green

Everything moves, as everything breathes —

So many clasped and intersecting arcs

repeated down the nested scales

in harmony

from stars to quarks.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 9, 2014

Definition

I am not my history,

I am not my age,

I am not the set of scenes I’ve seen

I am not the things I’ve done,

or people I have known,

I’m not my skills,

I’m not the times I’ve failed

I’m not my stuff, my size, my work,

I’m not the shape I’m in,

I’m not what people think of me,

I’m not where I have been

Though I may witness, every day,

most of the things above

I’m not boxed in 

by any one of them —

The one thing that defines me

is my love.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 8, 2014