Open Spaces

My mind is full of open spaces

from the day, from being out in it,

from garden work, its loamy satisfaction

The raspberries and I 

were rough with each other —

I shoved their cane tops into the ground,

they marked my arms with scratches.

We ended with them backbending neatly,

lateral buds poised to grow and fruit

The crows are nesting,

the air is kind

and the evening is stretching out long,

promising excitement for those who seek it,

and sweet dreams for the likes of me.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 31, 2017

If

If love is everywhere

then all the little

tubes and channels

we’ve devised

may be irrelevant —

we may not need

to jostle and twist

in efforts to achieve a perfect match,

may not need to write off thousands

who prove to have a different kind of thread

If love is everywhere,

we may be able

to bypass the conditions of engagement,

to deliver the sweet liquid of acceptance,

receive the luscious fruit we deeply crave.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 30, 2017

Day in the Life

Whatever happened to us? you said —

sorrow and distance

but sweet close holding

The rain that has driven the day

masked the breath of spring

which was coming in anyway

though we didn’t know

And later the same strong wind

blew white clouds through blue sky

and your hand was warm

walking to the library

The old man walks out of the bathroom

carrying the rug. I don’t need this, he says,

I have my own pants.

The day has had some rough parts

but I will put him to bed.

We’ll have another go

in the morning.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 29, 2017

Hourglass

A little shift starts the sand moving,

and with the second shift,

the channel opens

and everything is heading down,

small dimple on the top surface

and one by one, the grains dropping

We will streamline ourselves

so we can slide on through,

we will let go of

extraneous appendages,

we will not panic

at unstoppable momentum —

it is what we have been asking for

There is joy here

in the gathering of focus,

satisfaction

in the end of aimless waiting,

there is time for us

in the curve’s acceleration,

there’s a place for us,

and there is time.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 28, 2017

Morning Chat

with the (virtual) biking philosophers

Maybe nothing changes but your story,

maybe your story changes everything.

Perhaps your being is as vast as mind

and what you see as change

is just a different way of viewing it

Life, after all, is not random —

it persists at being life

in every venue where it finds itself —

everything it’s dealt

becomes its opportunity

to grow, to live, to rise, to be transformed

So through its changes

it remains the same,

although its sense of being is forever new,

and that explains both progress

and immutability

throughout the days of folks like me and you.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 27, 2017

Save, or I Perish

As if randomly,

through some searing memories

I find myself

fallen between the ribs of normalcy,

lodged in the space between

what I thought and what I’ve come to understand

stuck in a place where I can only cry

“save, or I perish”

Part of me thinking,

are tears so bad, anyway?

Is this agony, or is it just

the stretching of my face

and of the inside of my mouth?

What carried me this far

will carry me all the way.

To the almighty, it doesn’t matter

if my salvation took a thousand years

or one day,

I am not tardy,

I am not far from home —

wait for the clearing,

for surely it will come.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 26, 2017

There is a River

Let the water run and run

until it runs clear,

till it can sit transparent

in a ball jar,

when all the sediment

has been first stirred, then washed away

and we will celebrate 

a well-developed well

Let my thoughts stream in goodness

till they run clear,

till agents of opacity

all disappear,

till all my impulses are pure love

and I no longer brace myself

to disapprove

There is a river

running through all consciousness,

its streams will gladden

all the hungry hearts,

I will ride it

all the way to clarity,

yes, I will ride it

from and to my source.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 25, 2017

Willing

I am so willing

to learn the way of all goodness!

Let me be vigilant

about the small inner voices

that snarl and sulk

and try to hang onto

constructs that I never wanted anyway

They say they are defending me

but what they are defending

is not me — it’s only all the stories

of my limitations

Where what I am

is the stream of dear belonging

to all goodness, the reflection

of the eternal shining love

I’m ever drawn to

And what I am 

doesn’t need defending,

it just needs shining,

just needs my full attention every day.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 24, 2017

Losing Weight

It has not cost me anything

to let go of worry.

When I consider

the collective effort

of so many of us

to lose weight,

I marvel

at why more people

haven’t noticed this one —

the great lightness that lifts us

when we recognize

the perfect order

of all things living

(including us)

has been established

and doesn’t need

to be worried into place.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 22, 2017

Light Works

Two hours of sun

outweighing eight of rain,

the recognition of kindness

constituting a great flash

in that one moment,

the slow flow of effort

cresting finally in accomplishment

These show

the way light works

and how we are made to celebrate

the shine of being,

the grace of every day.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 21, 2017

Prayer on a Rainy Hilltop

Guide me, Truth of all that is,

let me not be taken by these lies,

let me not feel trapped,

let me not succumb

to any of my former strategies

Guide me, Life that’s daily new,

million ways of upward growth,

the ever-folding pathways for connection,

intertwine me through and through,

let me breathe your fragrance, too,

let your loving law be my protection

Guide me, everlasting Love,

give me kind and healing touch,

let me witness your almighty power,

let me be a member

of the bliss-fulfilling choir

that lifts us all and blesses 

every day, each hour.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 20, 2017

Hand in Hand

Everything drained out of the day

with the early rain —

our warmth, our prospects —

and we were left empty

in the isolation

of the cold dampness

But then quickly

the substance began to return,

the sense of walking hand in hand

with infinity,

feeling the sustenance flow in,

filling the spaces between

our needy queries

and the non answers

Until finally, in the clearing

in the late afternoon,

we were rich in all the places

we had felt bereft —

we could offer

warmth to others,

and sweet dreams,

and confidence

that every need is met.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 18, 2017

Rain

Rain on the windshield,

people in the parking lot

walking with their choice of

hurried, cringing, or nonchalant

I imagine rain

soaking into their sweatshirts,

I’m hoarding warmth

as my parked car cools down

People find ways to survive

or they don’t. They find resilience,

they choose laughter, or they let rain

soak into their bones

and let their spirits be dampened

Me, I’ve done both.

It’s a choice I make

in all those times

where I’m not immediately overwhelmed

by some external magnificence,

when it’s up to me

to bring my shine into the day.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 17, 2017

Tone Deaf

Some time afterwards,

the niggling suspicion knocks,

flounces its way in, 

sets its baggage down,

and I start to conclude

I have been tone deaf

Certainly not for the first time,

though I had hoped these incidents

had mostly tapered off,

as has my former swift self castigation

I am a little sorry, yes,

but also curious —

what internal constructs

led to the little gaffe, which rolled out

with such ease and comfort?

Where could my mind be, next time,

to reduce the risk of doing this again?

Ah, let me be included

in the grand forgiveness

that Life gives each of us

as we come home,

where we serenely know

we never fail each other

when in the consciousness of being one.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 14, 2017

The Language of Light

I’m learning the language of light.

Like all languages, it takes practice,

it takes immersion,

and there’s a great sense of victory

when I dream in it

I’m learning the language of light,

just a few words at a time —

the names, for example, 

that people have for themselves,

a name, perhaps, that they

forbid themselves to use

but wait in deep longing

for someone else to speak it to them

The verbs, also,

like soar and lilt

and rise, and meet,

and own your truest name

I’m learning the language of light

from countless tutors, large and small,

the flash of a moment, the steady care of years.

Though my words are halting

I say them anyway,

for that’s the only way to really learn.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 13, 2017