Acquitted

So what’s real about this

(where are all your accusers?)

is the innocence

that has always clothed you

and that innocence

makes you innocent

even as the snapping jaws of guilt

try to close about you

They’re just made of dust

so they can’t do anything —

can’t stop you from being

your noble self,

cant stop you

from being free.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 28, 2018

Little Things

It doesn’t take a lot

to feel content —

a fire, a companion,

a cup of ginger tea,

a little light to find the things we need

in our little cabin, in the rain

No entertainment but the crackle of the flames

and a thermometer to see how much

the heat has risen,

and conversations spanning our surrounding days,

some memories, some plans, and some reflections

It doesn’t need to be as hot as when we’re home —

the little things can warm our hearts and bones.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 26, 2018

Not Here

I’m having a hard time

finding a poem today,

here, amid the calm and steady

working on a couple projects

and the alarming tug

of social media

Hours have rolled by,

the minutes marked 

by the drumbeat of appliances,

me in my pajamas all day,

thinking of drifting toward bed.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 24, 2018

Holding Ground

A pale pink dawn

through soul-colored catkins,

the quiet songs of things

along my daily rounds,

clinks and clicks and shuffles,

heater noises, water sounds,

the rhythm of calm, the routine

of each thing in its place —

these serve to hold the ground

against the heave.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 23, 2018

Happy Home

Happy to have home, and be home

happy for warmth

and the restitching of friendships,

happy for time together

and the space to be open-hearted,

happy for peace within

Happy for sunshine with crisp, cold edges,

happy for walking beneath blue sky,

happy for trees and their timeless embrace,

happy for miracles.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 22, 2018

Snow Shower

Evening met us with

a momentary visitation —

some among us have expressed impatience —

too late in the season for cold,

bring on the daffodils

Others have reminded them

February has the right

to dish up anything —

snow and crocuses,

plum blossoms and deep freeze

But what difference does it make

what any of us wants —

nobody asks us anyway!

©Wendy Mulhern

February 21, 2018

The Laughing Place

Still tentative on this

but fascinated

to be delivered to the laughing place,

the place where there’s no weight

against my eye sockets, no barb

at the back of my throat,

no narrowing of eyes and set of jaw,

no slump of daily dosage of defeat

Can I ease in

to this wide plain

where I have confidence

in every person’s inner voice

and in the trueness of its counsel,

how it delivers each of them

as it delivers me —

And any picture to the contrary

engenders laughter,

through the gentle affirmation

of the presence of the One Mind

that motivates and orchestrates us all?

©Wendy Mulhern

February 20, 2018

Later Lessons

In these days, our discussion

of things that we have learned

seems more a list

of things we have unlearned,

misconceptions we labored under

being shattered

by life’s happenings,

pictures reconstructed from the shards

assuming strange refractions,

showing different interpretations

We learn not to prescribe, and not to judge,

not to have a monolog

that strives to teach a lesson.

Most of all, not to think

our worth depends on what we do,

and not to think our failings

will make us fail.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 18, 2018

resolution

the anger of helplessness

the desperate resolve

the anger of helplessness

the rage of having

nowhere to stand

the desperate resolve

the anger of helplessness

the rage of having

every protest cut down

nowhere to stand

the desperate resolve

the anger of helplessness

the desperate resolve

the shift of paradigm

the letting go

the end of helplessness

the sudden silent dropping

of all the binding boxes

as contexts fall away like ash

the end of helplessness

the seed of hope.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 17, 2018

Touch me — a prayer

Touch me with your spirit,

touch me until I am lit up

to the point of discovering

I am all light

and my rays

are all yours

and my desire

all comes from what you are,

what you impart

Touch me so I feel recognized

from the inside out

so I know

there is nothing of me

that you don’t know,

nothing you don’t love,

and the lift I feel

all along my form

is just me touching in

to what you have held for me,

what you have held me as,

how you have beheld me,

all my days.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 16, 2018

The Road to Brownsville

The road to Brownsville

snakes along the river —

though you can seldom see it

you can tell by the trees —

alder, and some maple

and a few firs,

broken branches thick with moss —

that the river is there

The road stands high and proud,

serious slopes off both shoulders

so big trucks can trundle through

in any weather,

timber explaining the need

for such a big road

to such a small place.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 15, 2018

The Easy Life

The little fire

takes a while

to make us warm

Outside, today,

the cold north wind celebrated

the bright sun, whipping and chafing us

as we ignored hunger, and tiredness,

racing to keep ahead

of the rumbling rock work

So we discover

there is a sustenance beyond

the formulas for comfort,

there is joy out on the edges,

there’s a rich reward,

a great expansion that we find

as we’re delivered

from the easy life.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 13, 2018

The Costume Room

In the costume room

there were many choices —

things to put on you, things to put on me,

faces, masks, and characters,

roles and stories

In the costume room, we know

all these things were put on

and thus could sense that also

we could take them off

Here in the mirror world

it’s not so clear

what I project on you,

what’s really there —

we could be completely different people

in each other’s plays,

not even knowing it

and thus surprised

by all the things we see each other do.

Has it ever seemed that way to you?

©Wendy Mulhern

February 11, 2018

The Garden

This is a place where everyone can come

to feel comforted, refreshed, cherished,

this is a garden where you can come

and be affirmed. This is a garden

where your presence is wanted, needed,

this is a garden for tasting peace

Outside the walls, there may be harsh winds,

outside the gate, there may be predators,

but inside, you can feed

on what builds up your spirit,

you can grow strong enough

to venture anywhere.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 10, 2018

Cause

We’re only a layer away

from the bright cause that animates us all,

only a layer, only a letting go

of what we now reflexively react to

Only the choice not to be caught up

in any of these urgent

cause and effect loops,

only the choice

to begin at the beginning,

right here, right now,

caused by nothing else

but what we are.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 9, 2018

Spirited

Here on the ground

the days are still painted

with enough grace

to fill any heart that’s present

We may not be flying

in the way we sense we someday will,

but we can feel high

in the confluence of skill and opportunity,

of character and connection,

of sun and scent and wind

and the myriad gifts of the hour.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 8, 2018

February

February begins to grant

the gift of longer days,

a swing of warmth along the arc

where the sun promenades

But be aware, it still is known as winter

and can dip there, sending down ice

from brilliant frigid stars,

freezing the pipes,

keeping us on guard.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 7, 2018