What I Noticed Today

An osprey,

two blue herons flying,

a high hemlock perch

A swooping swallow,

a reflective river,

duck with two babies

enclosed in green concentric circles

The discovery of new territory

in the old bounds of my body,

heretofore uncharted ground

in places in between the known landmarks

Morning clouds, 

south breeze sounding wind chimes,

fresh coolness to the air,

working and waiting, and

stepping forward intrepidly

toward the receding edge of tomorrow.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 30, 2016

Innocence

True innocence

has no ignorance —

I learn this as I ride

the storm washed day,

I feel it as I pick my way

through my internal disarray

and feel the rays of light

infusing gradual understanding

This innocence

has not been torched by tragedy

and has not been imprisoned

in walls of fear,

this innocence steps clear

of all the crashing disillusionment,

of all the terror,

irrepressible assertion

that we are good to the core,

that we can steer by this

because we always are.

Therefore I saw your face as though it were the face of God, 

and you were pleased with me.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 29, 2016

Caregiving

We look for signs of heaven

in our cool living room

(sheltered from summer heat)

when the old man awakes from sleep

and asks, are all my sisters gone?

I lived a good life, he says.

Yes, you’ll make it in alright, I say.

I ask him what he thinks it’s like,

and if he thinks he'll see them.

He says a little; I don’t press it

For I feel we’ve touched, perhaps,

a depth I haven’t seen in some time

(or maybe ever)

I listen, instead, to the sound of traffic

coming in the open window.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 28, 2016

Flow

Perceptions loosen, floes flow,

rigid edges bump against each other

and fall off, shapes get rounded,

constructs that were solid

become dislodged,

where there was certainty,

the questions form

There is a current coursing underneath,

pulling everything towards the source.

There may be grinding creaking,

there may be logjams,

and signs of overwhelming force

Don’t be afraid.

You’ll find a suppleness

replacing former hardened forms,

you’ll find a truth that doesn’t count on stasis,

and an identity that doesn’t bow to norms

You’ll find yourself

finding yourself fluid,

define yourself in how you learn to move.

What must melt and break

will do so

as you approach the subtle, steady truth.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 27, 2016

Freedom Prayer

Make me new, each day,

remind me of the bright strength

that waits, quicksilver, for me to ride,

always safe from any efforts

to frame it stiff, subvert it,

remind me of the over-welling love

that floods out all attempts

to make it small

Not what I own,

but what is mine

by virtue of belonging

in all that is,

not what I thought I was,

but what I am,

ever surging with the infinite.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 26, 2016

Clear

Let my heart be soft,

let it release constrictions,

let me trade in my judgments

for innocence

Let my breath be full,

let my soul feel its expansion,

let me trade in my regrets

for forgiveness

This is a time of freshness,

two nights’ thunderstorms 

achieving crispness on the second morning,

the hot thickness, for now,

cleared from the day,

This is a time for clear eyes, too,

scratchy opinions

all washed away.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 24, 2016

Wind

The wind has blown through the whole day,

tossing tree crowns and plastic chairs, 

bringing mugginess from the south 

but cooling it to bearable

Dragonflies have danced, devouring insects

who had found, perhaps,

a still point in the air

We have walked this day

with grace and finesse, 

we have found ways to move,

ways to make others happy

We have kept listening 

to the patterns of kindness,

passed from tree to tree, sung by many birds,

held in the dignity of each tousled head

that lifts itself to face the wind.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 22, 2016

Rising

Your soul each morning

walks out open,

arms spread, ready as a kite

to catch the updraft of being,

to soar and scud, to dive and dance

along the upward currents,

to rise and rise,

even as your gifts flow

out and around, 

to let the impulse multiply

and come back through again,

ever cycling, ever linked

by mutual nourishment

to other cycles,

other life forms rising and releasing,

all of us emerging as a whole.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 21, 2016

Joy Wins

Joy wins —

It is the starting point,

the quality of every impetus

Not something hoped for,

waited for, a distant endpoint,

not something to emerge

(perhaps) after travail and sorrow

(Though it does emerge there,

being unsuppressable, waiting,

always, for the point when,

drama spent, we pause from flailing)

Joy wins.

It is the trumpeting

of everything we are,

not tied to loss or gain

but simply here —

the life force pulsing us

through every day.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 20, 2016

Signs

I.

Today at the end of my bike ride,

enjoined from coasting no-hands,

I imagined wings at my shoulder blades.

I could feel them, and the way my lungs filled

as they opened. My breath deepened,

and emotions pulled at my chest

I could feel the work of muscles

down my back, I could feel

how wind caught 

under their downstroke.

I felt myself lifted,

I heard the wing beat,

the rush at my ear.

It was more than enough to compensate

for my three fingers on the handlebar.

II.

I take it as a sign of goodness

that the air has cooled —

the wind has come around from the north

and the clouds have gone to cirrus,

still visible in pink above the afternoon’s

high cumulous, as twilight

wafts in on the drier breeze

promising deep sleep.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 19, 2016

One Moment

Evening brings

a chance of thunder,

a momentary glow,

last sun gleaming 

on a boat’s white hull

Memory offers

people hardly even listening

while waiting to be seen,

to be heard, to be known

Wisdom intones

No one needs coaching

on how to be.

It’s never right to ask,

how are you doing

at learning to forgive?

I must honor

the cloak of respect,

must honor your quiet space,

big enough for you to twirl around in,

big enough for you to turn three times

to make a nest of long grasses

in which to sleep,

big enough to fling yourself down,

to howl, to moan, to cry,

or not. It’s OK for you to just sit there, too.

It isn’t mine to pry.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 18, 2016

After the Opening

My mouth has been full of thank yous.

Bright threads of them

trail through thought,

Images flit in memory

like a convergence of moths

The day’s events are over

and all their preparations

can now lie smooth

for the next day’s work to build on

In a while, all this excitement

can settle as well.

Tomorrow, of course,

will take care of itself.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 17, 2016

Vessel by Jennifer McCurdy, photo by Josh Liebowitz

Habit

You don’t need to swallow

the bitter drink of disappointment

even though it’s a habit

You don’t need to close your eyes and nod

while the gall spreads down your throat

and pools of it settle behind your eyes,

and your teeth grind together

in the misery of another brick in your wall

of small

You can set that cup down,

you can bow your head,

you can wait to be filled

the way water fills footprints

in shiny sand

You can insist

on drawing no conclusions

until joy rises up

to smooth your brow.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 15, 2016

Cygnet

The message is clear —

there’s time for what you need —

There’s time for you to nap on the shore

when the wind is boisterous

and the waves contrary

and the journey is too long for you

There’s time for you to tuck your head

and gather strength. Your parents

will wait and stand guard

while you sleep

Heir of grace,

you will be guided

through these ungainly times

before your white flight feathers.

You are every bit as loved

in your gray garb

as you have always been,

as you will ever be.

Months will deliver you

into your splendor,

but now you can take

all the time that you need.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 14, 2016

Traveling

Riding through worlds

in concentric bubbles —

bubble of sound,

bubble of thought,

(poetry read against

music receding as images rise)

bubble of fuselage,

bubble of sky

enclosing patchwork earth

and lakes reflecting clouds

We traverse time collectively,

each of us cocooned 

in our strategies

to pass through untouched

to the other side.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 13, 2016