Saturday, June 30, 2018

The Rhythm of Listening














Afterwards, I would release myself
from the rhythm of listening,
the quick catching on the cadence
of thought, of feeling,
riding down the tale
through its pauses and its dramas
circling in to its conclusion

The energy it takes
is not trivial — the close attention
as in dance, the role of follow

Afterwards, I would notice
how still and even my breath could be,
sinking into the quiet,
submerging into a noticing
that has no words.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2018

Friday, June 29, 2018

Games with sounds and space














You peer with interest
through the interstices
to find, somehow, the ultimate escape
where everything transcends 
what it was thought to be —
the thing becomes the space between
as focus shifts, the space becomes the thing

Come inward, then, come through
to where, on tiny scale, space opens out —
infinitesimal, the infinite within
deftly reflects the universe without

This is a thing you clearly want,
less certain is your need —
you will try to take it home —
Who knows? You may succeed.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 29, 2018

Thursday, June 28, 2018

Open














The day has its gifts,
they require of me no planning,
just the openness to see them and receive

My worthiness
requires no earning,
just the willingness to be
open eyes to bring the moment home,
grateful heart to notice where I’ve come.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 28, 2018

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

I bow to my Creator














Save, or I perish —
that is, hold me,
for your holding
is what makes me what I am,
Your thought of me defines me,
my movement and my voice,
my love, my focus, my desire,
my strength —
this is all your great idea

So I am not
(though it come back and back
like a recurring dream)
a crier on a mountain,
whipped by wind,
my voice blown back,
noticing whatever truth
I climbed up here to tell
is lost

My words, my song, my truth
come from you —
they are not lost,
for you are making them
new in each moment,
fresh as each morning.
I learn myself from you.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 27, 2018

Sunday, June 24, 2018

Thunderstorm














Wind blows through, bringing weather —
trees send the signal along the ridge,
pressure drops, flotsam falls from branches
prefiguring the coming rain

There is no stress within the mounting rush —
it comes with patience, each development
in its appointed time —
soft rolls of thunder, turkeys gobbling in response,
moving patches of darkened fields and sky

Then the showers, quick and cleansing as our tears,
here and there, sweeping through briefly,
wetting grasses, trees and roads

Then the angelic sunset
riding with us as we headed home,
touching down, reminding us of grace.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 24, 2018

Saturday, June 23, 2018

I tell myself














It is good, I suppose,
that the hardest work of my life
be now, that there be no hope of
sliding into comfort, letting go the reins,
letting the next generation take over

I would find such comfort meaningless,
as much so as the offerings our culture sells
(having stuff, being stuff, doing stuff)

My need remains, for once, to find
what really heals the moment and the world
and it’s worth working for (this I tell myself,
though I feel so tired)
this I tell myself, knowing that it’s true.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 23, 2018

Friday, June 22, 2018

Homeward














Sometimes the extent of
what doesn’t matter in the least —
doesn’t matter anymore or never did —
seems ready to drown me

So far removed these tracks have gone
from anything that nourishes,
any reason anyone could see
to go and do it for another day

And yet the gleams of what’s precious
shine out somehow, from every moving being —
May that light grow stronger from within
and guide them, guide us —
all along our homeward way.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 22, 2018

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

A New Life














Though I see light all around me,
it’s still my time (it seems)
to walk in silence

There may never be a time where I say
look, this is the way to do it —
by the time I get there
everybody else will be there, too.
That would be fine with me —
I’d love to never tell anybody anything again

Maybe instead we’ll just
build a new life for ourselves,
here on the land —
a life that offers shelter and encouragement
for those who need this place, this light, this time,
for those who, for their needing, we will need.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 20, 2018

Monday, June 18, 2018

Apology














For the folly of my past,
amends are all that I can offer,
so I offer them wholeheartedly

As for the shame of having been a fool,
that doesn’t matter. None of those feelings
apply to me anymore. There is no contest,
so I am not contesting my foolishness

The fact that it has nothing to do
with who I am, with who I’ve ever been,
removes the sting,
but not the need for an apology.

Sorry for my presumption,
sorry for my assumptions,
sorry for the skewed assessments
that impelled my words and actions.

I’m seeing things better now —
I hope you’ll feel the difference.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 18, 2018

Sunday, June 17, 2018

One Morning














One day you’ll wake up feeling fine —
the dread that sullied
so many of your early mornings
gone — you’ll feel, within,
the strong light rising,
pure as blackbird song

For this, this bright upwelling,
is what you’re made of,
what you’re made for, too.
The thin veneer on which anxiety is etched
must wear away,
leaving nothing but the true,
which overcomes,
which carries all the days.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 17, 2018

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Life Flow














In all the things we think we know,
so many things we don’t —
a city in a frond of fern, a universe,
the vast unfolding vibrance 
in the corridors between the cells,
all the exuberance that life can send
coursing through those unseen channels

In these two turkey hens
ambling among the ferns,
nonchalantly snapping up the bugs,
chirping conversationally as they step —
perhaps two nebulae
grandly moving through the depths of space

They all — we all — are orchestrated
in the unceasing law of Life’s eternal joy,
our movement so much deeper than will or whim,
held by its breathing through us all.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 16, 2018

Friday, June 15, 2018

Sea Change














(for Jennifer, from the biking philosophers’ notebook)

If clouds can soften all at once,
so can hearts, so can long-entrenched
opinions, and all our expectations

There is a language
beneath the languages,
there is a way we know
that we don’t know of,
there may be sudden sparks
that arc across the seeming distance,
showing us, at last, that we are one.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 15, 2018

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Cartesian
















Cartesian calculations fall unevenly
over the land —
we walk on the bumps of frost heaves
and mole diggings, deer boundings
and many other unknown forces

It’s the same with everything we thought we knew —
we’ve learned there’s no point in arguing
about minute alignments in the realm of straight lines —
they may inform us,
but none of them contain the final truth.
We need to find the places upon the land
where they all meet,
we need to soften every view
to find what’s true.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 14, 2018

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

Life Line














I don’t even wish
I had understood these things sooner —
they render such desires irrelevant.
Loss is gain, life propels us forward

I have clearly reached the place
of the divide of my life line
written on my right hand (not my left)
that I had wondered at since childhood,
told myself maybe the left is what counts for me,
being left handed. Maybe palm lines
mean nothing

In any case it doesn’t matter.
There are no circumstances which
avoiding would release me
from the journey I’ve been given,
no failure on my part which could deprive me
of the path where I’ve been sent.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 13, 2018

Monday, June 11, 2018

Tectonic














The aftermath of this momentous shift
has me rethinking
all the well worn habits of my thought,
noticing the places I have drifted,
how my feet don’t seem to quite touch down

The day hums along its course,
people meet and plan —
their life arcs are as perfect
as the cause that runs them.
And what is misaligned
will shift and come together,
smooth or volcanic,
it doesn’t matter

Just like me, just like my finding
that though I crash through pain,
I do not stay there, and everything
that comes to me can be redeemed.
It may take time, but time is not the factor —
it will take place,
it will be all that’s ever been.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 11, 2018

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Dream Light


















Where does the light in dreams come from,
here in the dark woods, in the dark cabin,
when rain is falling on the metal roof
and all the lamps are out?

How is it that I can know you in the dream
when I don’t really see you,
when we’re conversing
while both looking at the same object?

What is presence anyway,
and what is absence?
How do we see each other,
how are we seen?
This world is more mysterious
than I imagined, and vaster,
since it also houses the realm of dreams.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 10, 2018