Come Out

Come out into the green —

there is life here, in the leaves

and under them,

there is fresh air,

there are myriad surprises

Come where you are free

of all the tyrant screens

that seek to program us,

to sell and drive us

There’s something unsurpassed

in knowing without media,

communing — just you — 

with other life forms

If it is left unphotoed, unrecorded,

it will keep on touching you —

the haunting song of your connection

reaching deep — deeper than anything

anyone ever told you.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 31, 2017

Memorial Day

But if we were a peace-based society

we wouldn’t pause to honor

“fallen men and women in

the service of our country.”

We might mourn and remember

the monstrosity of war

and how it drew us into acts

we never could atone,

which only the most rigid of story lines

could grant some space to live in

(since we couldn’t live

with the bitter truth

that all war is vain)

If we were peace-based

we would honor 

the courageous men and women

who stood up to the lie,

who wouldn’t buy

divisiveness of sides,

who refused to fall from love

into something partial,

who held the line of peace

till it was real.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 29, 2017

What I Want to Say

What I want to tell you

is how it felt to notice

in the space between the objects,

in the places of my thought,

the wide open lightness

of feeling no fear at all,

of knowing surely

I never was rejected,

I never was forgotten,

I never was alone

What I want to hold to

is the way I understood:

the stuff that seems so serious —

life and death, shame or acceptance —

has never been a thing

because there never was a contest.

Our belovedness

was established before time

in the place that never changes,

in the place that is assured

Our creator

was never impressed

by the threats of death or hell,

knowing that she wouldn’t choose them

and that she’s in charge

of us all.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 28, 2017

Spinners

The tiny spiders

have left their tent.

They stayed there for several days,

making short forays

into the broader world

It’s said they’re born

knowing how to spin,

with the geometry

of their own span and cubit

expressed in perfect webs 

that match their size

When I consider

the range and scale of life,

it strikes me as impossible

that things so small

can be so intricate

Yet it is so,

and maybe I’d do well

to step back from the snobbery of size

and seek to learn

from anything that teaches.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 27, 2017

At the Beach

Sweet and masterful mom

speaks gently, no hidden venom

beneath her directives

Her children respond 

without trauma,

gentle interest

leading their pursuits

In this world where so many

voice their alarm about the days,

this simple presence holds

hope for the future,

we can all learn to embody

these kind ways.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 25, 2017

Evening

Sun sets painterly,

hawthorns converse,

reaching blossomed limbs

across the street,

buds bob on kiwi,

cascades of golden chain

wink beneath the green

One by one, each bloom and color

radiates through its arc,

splendid presence

in this last glow

before the dark.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 24, 2017

Secret Place

My entrance into the secret place

and the stillness there

is assured

The door is anywhere,

close as my thought,

close as my prayer

A quick lasso around

the rapid scramble of the day,

a net that holds

the worried chattering at bay

A silent sinking

into the depths of truth,

a steady drinking

of what fulfills me

And I am home

as I have always been,

in peace and power

same as I ever was.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 23, 2017

Escaping White Privilege

I’m tired of looking

round and round

in this prescribed place

of acceptability —

I’ve searched every corner

and some of what I want and need

is missing

And though I’ve been told

that my partition

is the one most everyone

wishes they were born in,

I’m not so sure

I’m thinking

I need to get out of here,

even if it means

giving up the stuff I’m told

others would most envy

I have a notion kindness

may be my ticket,

so I will prize it

and seek out every chance

to exercise it

I will build up the core

of my kindness

until it can do

all kinds of acrobatic things

or at least till it reaches

over the divide.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 22, 2017

Mementos

The box labeled 

parental sentimentalities

is small

and the things in it

were not carefully vetted

They were just what got caught

at moments when the momentum

of moving on

flagged a little

and these were dropped like sediment

from the slower flow

Or when a stick snags something

near the river’s bank

and other things, arrested, gather behind it

Somehow I couldn’t throw out

the paper cut out figure smiling benignly,

curling at the edges

or the fimo depiction

of a sink with snow in it

Many years hence

I may look at them again.

For now, this box is ark

among the flags.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 21, 2017

A Day Like This

A day like this

it’s easy to understand perfection,

how things live at the crest of their giving —

nothing tentative, nothing restrained

It’s easy to understand

fear is no part of being,

doubt is not a concept

that life comprehends:

each electron gives its all

in the imperative leap

of this moment's equipoise —

I can understand

this is what is happening now.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 19, 2017

Escape

The lush green

from so many weeks of rain

pushes at the windows,

invites a quiet escape

from the room of classical music

and the old man dozing and rocking

and too much heat

To where everything is too long

for the well-groomed yard,

too wild for easy tending,

and birds and engines vie for prominence

in the suburban soundscape

and I haven’t really escaped anything

by stepping outside.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 18, 2017

Animal

I keep thinking about

the little animal

with the sharp teeth

and the silky, sensuous body,

with its mammal warmth

and its round lair

and its flaring territoriality

I watch the animal within,

I see it turn and curl,

I see it growl and snap

And I remind it

it doesn’t need to do that.

There’s a grand connection here,

there’s ample safety

and there’s peace.

No need to defend me —

the animal is free to sleep.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 17, 2017

On Further Examination

I break open the day

and find myself innocent

though many records

have intimated otherwise

My current self

has not been kind

to my former self

in terms of estimation of her worth

But there are signs amid the boxes

that grace was also present,

there was lovability

and she was loved

It’s right to learn things,

it’s right to grow and to outgrow

and with that progress,

forgiveness also has its place,

it’s right to leave some things behind

but still remember

in a fundamental sense

I’ve never changed.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 16, 2017

Fridge Poetry

It seemed hard to find a poem today, my hours having been dusted with sorting, discarding, packing; my mind pursuing something as yet too arcane to fit into a poem; my body having its own issues. But one boon to the sorting was finding, again, a little booklet in which I recorded the poetry found on the fridge, courtesy of several collections of magnetic words. It seems appropriate to share (each clump is its own poem):

from which deep music

is this delirious joy

like skin whispers

I only ask

that I may feel

eternity

mother goddess

water color

I will soar free

shake time

sing life

life

in forest sky language

swim a thousand storms

why not live

sweet surreal rain music

springs here

moon be still

nude petals shine deeply

next to my feet

all there is

is here

luscious music

sweet to create

best two play

angel please

as always

color my every vision

smoke will make a masterpiece

under fast water

falling sculpture

a wild moment of

surreal grace

essential rock

shake free of time

wanting a thousand springs

only ask an eternity together

why not live

behind the rain

music above

purple wood near

song beneath

swim soaring

over the day

life’s blue whispers

from which I rose in sky

always feel gifted

Wendy Mulhern (and maybe some others)

sometime before and including October 2007

Coming Back

But if I am a prodigal

I don’t regret

the years my older brother would call squandered

This path has taught me

everything I needed day by day,

this life has brought me

all these precious gifts

which I can offer,

humble and in awe

upon Love’s altar

I have grasped the very substance of my being

in the brothels, streets and bars,

in my losses and my tears

Proving

my Father’s hand never left my shoulder,

my days were always guided,

my return assured.

The song of gratitude I sing

is purer, bolder,

now that I know Love’s hand 

is ever here.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 14, 2017

Undisturbed

My days go along smooth

like a stream that’s found its rhythm,

gathered enough volume

to flow in silent swiftness

with only subtle murmurs

over underwater stones

I seem to be learning

through a series of reflective observations

how to distinguish who I am 

from the impostor

I’m finding that I cannot be offended,

can’t be insulted or annoyed

and can’t be injured:

The “I” that’s true

gets its essence from its source

which never ceases,

and gets its impulse

not from reaction

but from the constant sustenance 

of good

So things run smoothly

which before were turbulent

and what was helpless

finds the power of calm.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 13, 2017