Morning Prayer

Pick me up gently,

set me straight,

remind me where I come from,

where I’m going,

not a robot, banging head

against the wall,

time and again

confounded by a corner

You set my face

towards the wide spaces

where the sun summons

the morning mist

and slowly melts it off,

rolling out brightness,

rolling out blue

And all the angles I was worrying

dissolve — there are no corners here —

just the day,

the love-sourced day.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 30, 2017

Crucible

Our hearts melt,

run out from the crude ore,

pool brightly, like with like

In this response

we know their essence —

this love so quickly moved

to love — this shows their mettle

and purifies their substance —

the more they love,

the greater their radiance.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 29, 2017

After the End

We move off from the place of focus

like crowds dispersing when the show is done —

our thoughts linger, wander, mill,

look for some remaining meaning

There are things we take with us

like small gifts tucked in pockets

to look at later in a quiet moment

Not sure what to do next

we feel the lightness

and the layered weight

of what we witnessed,

what we learned

All the while our love

moves into the spaces

ready to show us

as we emerge

how to make sense of it all.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 28, 2017

Vigil

It seems right and appropriate

to drop everything for vigil

but on the fifth day

(or the eighth, by some counts)

the waiting seems interminable

and the tasks that wait at home —

cooking beans, paying bills —

seem suddenly attractive

as does, in general,

having something to do

besides waiting

I seem to have forgotten

there is more to it —

holding space,

being doula

for the transfer of the mantle

from father to son,

peace settling on all shoulders . . . 

©Wendy Mulhern

October 27, 2017

Last goodbye before the end

We might have wished our children

no pain, but each emotion is a gift

and the fact that they can feel

is testament to who they are

If they can cry

the garden of their life will bloom,

they will have

bright shining after rain,

they will have

deep canyons where their love

carved out spaces

for winds of compassion 

to sing through

They will have birds nesting

and creeks running,

frogs and fish and mayflies —

they will have true life,

they will know joy.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 26, 2017

Bone

Down close to the bone

the things that so distracted us

are gone — the posturing,

the quid pro quo, the stature earned,

the balance due

And the essential fluids —

the love, the tears, the blood connection,

run near the surface. We forget

what we were thinking about,

caught up in the current,

dopplered in the moments

as time stretches out,

the silence at end of day

echoing back,

drawing us 

into its close circle.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 25, 2017

Egg

As suddenly as the turn of a day

the things we used to see in you

are gone — you are

an egg, an infant,

a night sky,

the things we think of you

no longer filtered

through the lens of our perceptions,

no longer judged

in the tally of the game

In this transparency

we see you pure,

untouched by all we knew of you

and all you knew of you as well —

you roll out of your form like liquid

ready to collect

in a new chalice.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 23, 2017

Transition

Wind blows the rain

through the night,

through the trees,

through the memories

of the day’s events

and intermittent ponderings

The night is long,

the times of waking frequent,

bones and thoughts

surface restless between dreams

When I fed the old man

my mouth opened with his,

closed with his around the spoon,

my lips together

as I slipped it from his mouth,

imagining the sustenance,

the lubrication,

his mouth moving like tortoises’

and scallops’

In the sun-washed morning

in the kitchen

you taste the aura of a new day —

you want to wrap us all in it,

you want us to bask in light

and multiply the brightness.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 22, 2017

Honey

In the turn of time

I come around to notice

how much I am like my husband,

how much he is like my father,

how much all the pointless

moments of annoyance in my past

have been just that

I picture the extraction of honey,

the breaking of the wax capsules,

the sweet liquid

flowing out reluctantly

I am as unsure 

how this is well accomplished

as I am how to release

the bright life light

from the capsules 

of all these constructs

Yet I know

there are ways, both gentle

and heat-filled,

in which this happens,

and even right now my life

with all that is sealed away

and all that’s messy

still drips sweetness.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 21, 2017

Forgiven

We wanted to be forgiven.

We wanted this, without even knowing

who, or for what —  some deep shadow

cast within us. Some light

we hoped would shine on all our being,

showing that we were never

what we most feared we were,

and we never needed

to be punished

We have sensed there is such a light

like an orange glow 

in a distant upper window,

a window that turns out to be ours,

a place that turns out to be home.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 19, 2017

Collective

In this place of everybody’s tears,

it feels amiss to have opinions —

better to let the collective pool deepen,

better to hear the cleansing music

of the quiet drops

and let the gathered ocean

sigh and shift, pour in, recede,

find its common rhythm,

sweep us up within its cycling waves,

rock us, rock us, till our sobs subside

till our restive motion

finds its restful ease.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 18, 2017

Translated

I got caught like a moth

between the folds of illusion

and the real light, and I thought

I was working the solution

but it was just a dream

running parallel to the truth

but without its power

Let me take the time to wake up.

It won’t seem like the story I’m imagining

but I will be lifted and straightened

from within, I will be infused

with new understanding.

I will not roll down the great conveyor belt

towards death. I will be translated,

I will walk free.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 17, 2017

Mid October

Seamless, memeless,

October slides into its second half,

morning dew replaced by morning fog,

pine needles falling

Strong south wind blows through bright sunlight,

bringing, mid-afternoon, its signature overcast,

chill creeps into the house,

I turn on the heat

 Vigil and comfort by turns

occupy the twilight,

earlier each evening.

What we are made of,

springing ever new,

will bring us through.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 16, 2017

At One

Underneath the slow drift of thought

(so many horror stories how it got that way)

there lies the urge

wild as water

wild as virgin rivers

to reconcile

to flow together

to abandon all divisive tales

and breathe as one

None of us really wants anymore

to be the winner —

we have started to see

that when one of us loses

so do we all

and we have all lost so much already

that we are really desiring

to come home

to the place we are all washed clean

and we are all sorry 

and we are all forgiven

and we can start anew

to live at one.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 15, 2017

Cup

Let me lift this cup of day

to my lips, let me taste

the light, the peppered challenges,

the satori of new illuminations

Let me lift the cup of this day

to my lips, let all the moments

kiss me with their inspiration,

let my thirst be ever quenched,

and my hunger — let it be awakened

Let me hold this cup of day,

this day, up to the light for blessing,

let me drink deeply, water to wine,

and in serving, let me be blessed.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 14, 2017

Choose to Understand

Funny how we used to think

we had to fight for our perspectives,

had to change the minds of those

who didn’t see as we did

Funny how we didn’t know

each view was like a puzzle piece,

each one required to amplify the whole,

each useless if they all were just the same

Now we feel how rich we are

in opened out dimensions

for every view that’s different from our own

that we, with courage, choose to understand.

©Wendy Mulhern

October 13, 2017