Seeds

In the quiet of twilight

birds fly, and people walk or drive

to one perch or another

All of these 

are like seeds,

every one of them full

of the glorious hopefulness of life

that chortles and bubbles

as if to burst its envelope

but which, instead, carries them along,

puts bounce into their being,

sings the song of them

even as they live it

Every one of them waiting

for the sure sign of their belovedness

so they can spring forth, holding back nothing,

so they can relax, borne up

on overflowing joy

Every one of them precious

in the eyes of anyone

who chooses to see them,

every one of them able

(on being seen)

to deliver the whole world.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 30, 2017

Notes on Light

There is no fall,

we are not shards,

there is no fractured mirror.

We are not separate from light

nor are we light’s receptors

The light is not a fragile thing we hold inside

that could be smothered, snuffed out,

or extinguished. 

It doesn’t dwell more brightly

in some than others,

it can’t be hoarded

or lorded over

It has been said that we are light.

Consider what that means —

for light can’t be divided,

can’t work against itself,

can’t know its own absence,

so full of presence and radiance

that light is all it sees.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 29, 2017

What I Hoped to Convey

No sadness, large or small,

no let down, present or imagined,

has any right to cast a pall

on your exuberant existence

There may be things you need to learn— 

this doesn’t make you bad.

The fires of transformation, as they burn,

will bring you, clear and brightened,

far beyond

anything you may have thought you had

Each of us gets to go there,

each of us has to —

each of us, emerging from the flames,

will be new-formed, holy,

and yet the very essence

of what we’ve always known we are.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 28, 2017

Owing the World a Poem

What do I owe the world today,

if not a set of clocked-in hours of labor?

Maybe I owe it

the sight of these pink clouds

over the power lines

and the planes streaking through

loud and aglow

and the sound of children up late

now that school is out —

maybe I owe the world

my now.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 27, 2017

A Bicycle Song

Climb on your wheels,

salute the early sun,

attack the hill then glide on down,

this time is yours,

these breaths your own to take,

this is your course, this is your way

You will be free

in every challenge

and you will feel

your heart’s balance —

you’ll know it's real

by how the wind embraces you

all down the trail, all down the day

You may not understand

how you are mixed in this,

what planes are you,

which are illusions,

but you will move

along the lines of what is true —

that’s how you’ll know,

how you’ll know you.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 25, 2017

Morning Reflections

This early morning time

belongs to the geese, obviously.

There is no urgency to wake up,

though some are stretching

and some are blinking sleepily

and some are preening

The voices of the kayakers come first,

followed by the clunk of paddles,

followed by the view of them,

and then the water

circling and settling

after their turbulence

A man across the slough

fills water cans from his dock

and showers the green foliage

in his yard

Small birds sing rich songs,

light from the water shimmers in trees.

Summer will burn strong today.

For now the air is peaceful —

coolness of the breeze a soft benevolence.

Trees will hold its remnant in their shade.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 24, 2017

Step by Step

Well, it seems it’s still important

to be patient with myself,

to count the little victories

of smoothing of emotions,

the lessening

of all the old reactions

and a quicker rebound

when I fall

It seems I don’t get to suddenly

transcend my former self,

don’t get to be made new

all at once

It comes in flashes,

and they may grow more frequent,

may stretch out into longer stands of light.

Part of the learning

is equilibrium

and loving even what I leave behind.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 23, 2017

Life is Gracious

There’s no escaping

the alchemy of grace —

dark times as well as bright times

have brought me to this place

The strength that rose up clear

against the bleakness,

the shine of presence

where the light was dim,

the sustenance that came from perseverance

revealed the key to all-sustaining joy

Yes, I was sent

down cold and bitter winds,

yes, it was a path

I never would have chosen,

driven through a narrow pass

where so much fluff was driven out

and I could feel the spareness 

of my bones

It’s only now, some two years later,

two winters’ thaw, two springs’ renewal,

that brightness rises clean 

along the edges of my days

and in the vigor of my growth

I see where I have come

and count it all for grace.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 22, 2017

Honest

Behind the drama and the worrying,

Beneath the calculations and the scheming,

Beyond the many layered paths,

the inter-tangling loops of things

that people try to be and do,

In that same place but separate

from all projected causal chains

Is found the honest heart of every you.

Honest, it beats through nights of sleeping,

Keeps vigil through the waking day,

Honest in its hope for worth and justice,

Honest in its deep desire to bless

In this we are the same — let us remember

Each one of these has infinite weight,

and their being matters

and their dignity matters

And you can’t take shortcuts with them —

They deserve their place in time

and their time in this place.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 21, 2017

A Word

And as to why a word would lurk,

coming to mind, out of context,

amid no other thoughts,

I had no notion

But there it was again,

“spavined” — a word 

I’ve never used,

a word I had to look up

when I found it

in someone else’s poem

Not that there’s no context

for such a word

in details of my life

but just — I wasn’t thinking it

yet there it was.

So this time I considered,

maybe this word has come to mind

for something in my life desiring soothing,

something wanting affirmation, not disposal,

something I can lift to be redeemed

In the simple, sweet, and peaceful way

of all redemption,

in the way of

“ask, and you receive.”

©Wendy Mulhern

June 20, 2017

Approaching Summer Solstice

It is the time of honeysuckle,

the time of abandon

where vines wander and tangle,

where forbs race each other up

to the flower dotted tops

of their foliage

And birds are coaxing their young to flight

and it feels like there’s enough time —

enough time to get lost in,

enough time to find your cause.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 19, 2017

Class

In whose name

could I ask her

to sit still and listen

when the resplendence

of life, of joy, of music,

was dancing through her being?

Whose very presence

was effervescent Spirit, Soul,

whose love of life

was overflowing?

No, we would listen

together, with the inspiration

of that very bounce,

to show, not tell

what goodness is,

to live, not talk of, truth.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 18, 2017

Drift

I hear, in the echo of distant crow caws,

a time link, a lacuna

that takes me quickly back east

to early summer mornings,

my vision now split

in the double exposure

so often engendered

when twilight comes late

and dream drifts

could call it morning

till I come back, startled,

to here and now,

watching my perceptions

settle like fallen petals.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 17, 2017

Amen

I don’t want the goodness of being

to be something I make up,

something that can fail

if my imagination

or my persistence

be lacking

I don’t want it to be up to me

whether there’s joy in the day,

whether the people in the world

feel fulfilled, know they are beloved

I want that truth to dawn

on its own, because it’s true,

because truth is insuppressible.

I want to get to be surprised

and delighted

by the goodness of being

spilling into my life

with joyful abandon

I ask this in the name of

all that is real.

So be it,

and so it is. Amen.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 16, 2017

Silver

Wind blows leaves silver,

rain silvers windows,

silvered flute tones

riff among the horns and strings

on the radio

I seek something similar,

silvern, shimmering, 

slick as bright fish

darting flashing in my

rippling waters within,

a prize worth keeping,

worth keeping my streams

pure for.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 15, 2017

Powered

And if the hum of every day,

well-oiled or creaky, loud or quiet,

should lull you into thinking

this is all you get

Step back, look deeper —

There is no engine here

except the bright desire of Life,

intense, unquenched,

coursing with strength

that can lift you

bounding over crowns of hills,

leaping sure-footed

among the crags,

soaring, glowing,

above the clouds

You need not settle

for a plodding pace

for you are powered

by life, by grace.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 14, 2017