Harmonic

The sand won’t fail to ripple

in the pattern of the light,

in the pattern of the waves,

in the pattern of the wind and tides

The harmony of light and shadow,

ebb and flow, advance, receding,

holds each grain of sand

here where your toes, delighted,

find them

So it is with what we call our lives —

nothing puts it into place,

nothing holds it there

except the truth that permeates our days,

harmonic waves of blessed, light-touched life.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 30, 2018

Just Saying

I’m not saying anything

about the quality of the box.

It’s a lovely box, and I can see

how it has given sense to your life,

a frame from which to view,

with which to order

all the currents streaming through your mind

I’m not saying anything

about the quality of the cage.

Certainly it’s a fine cage,

gilded and artful. It sets off your plumage,

provides a visual counterpoint

to your graceful lines

I’m just saying

something inside is making me

want to walk away. I don’t want

to try those containers out,

at least not now.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 29, 2018

Presence

Let me wake up to presence

and feel the substance of it,

how it fills up everything —

time and space and consciousness

Let me feel how presence

is both mine and its own,

how it speaks to me,

how I embody it

See? I can’t be absent

any more than presence can be gone,

and I can’t fail to dwell in presence,

the all, the law, of here.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 28, 2018

Welcome Home

You can go ahead

and set those worries right down

in the hall. You don’t need

to carry them upstairs

Come in, relax — every part of you

is welcome. We will thoroughly enjoy

all that you are

Even Awkward, that funny half-relative,

can feel at home here.

We don’t take him too seriously,

which comes as a relief to him.

I saw him settling in, with new ease,

leaning in to the surrounding laughter

We’re glad you found us. Whether you traveled

five hours in a sleigh, or six in an airplane,

or ten minutes across the bumpy winter grass,

your coming makes our circle rounder —

your presence is desired.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 27, 2018

Each other from afar

No need to stand on pretense

for we both have sat

in the shadow of death,

we have both been changed

And whatever we professed

before that 

is irrelevant —

we are in a different place

Our eyes now —

they don’t avert as quickly,

we take the deep time

to let things soak in,

to let the colors darken

in the wetness,

the saturation gather at the edge

No need to hold each other

to what we said and thought

in former times. Those times are gone.

We have today.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 26, 2018

The Morning’s Gold

We were there to harvest

the gold of the day,

exhilaration

when sun has overcome

the last night’s rain

Damp leaves quivered

with surface evaporation,

breath-catch of being here,

the moment’s radiant warmth

Later the clouds came across

and maybe there was more rain

(later we were inside, where noticing

is not strictly required).

In memory, and in the camera’s capture,

the morning’s gold will stay.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 24, 2018

Thought for the day

And the vision was flying beside me

like the flock of birds suddenly

at my shoulder, as we walked

near the shore

It touched on

layers of worlds

and how a shift in focus

can operate on each one —

the world of sound,

the world of light in a father’s eyes,

the nexuses of casual intersection

And it said:

All your longings will flow out

of all containers where you try to hold them,

they will turn from light to lead along the street,

but the brightness you desire

is yours, now and always —

it sits, in willing ease,

upon your brow.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 23, 2018

Taming

Even the greatest demons,

fearsome and raging

as they rip and howl

through the chasms

of your abandoned hopes

Even the slamming 

trap door of shame

with its dark echo

of clanging isolation

Just like everything that drags along

the shadowed garb of sorrow.

these, too, will be disarmed and tamed

Their sad disguises

will be laid aside,

their secret heart

will be exposed

and they’ll be wrapped

with tender expert hands

so they have no more need

to haunt your home.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 22, 2018

After, after all

There is, in our connection, wonder.

Afterwards, when hollow longing

dogs our door,

let us remember:

All the light we forged

still glows within,

and the spark that made it

never lacks the fuel

to start a warming blaze

and to sustain the joy and purpose

that charmed us so, before —

There’s no cold aftermath

to anything that’s meaningful.

We live, after all, in the adventure —

we live the bright unfolding dance of life.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 21, 2018

And Yet

You can’t put weight on what’s falling,

can’t stomp your foot, can’t hope

to knock the bottom out and so fall through —

there’s no salvation in destruction

however much you’re longing

for some easier way to get out

And yet …

And yet …

Every honest step, every searching step,

every anguished and exhausted step,

regardless of directionality

will take you closer

to the amnesty you seek

We live in the field of absolute value

where you can’t take a negative step —

what’s upside down will be inverted,

what’s right side up will be purified

Don’t worry —

this is not dependent

on your will and prowess,

this is Truth

unfolding effortless in grace.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 20, 2018 

Pool

I will not be tired or sad or scared,

I will notice

what your face is doing.

I won’t try to deconstruct your mood

but I will be here

watching for your light

If I can be a pool

to give reflection

and maybe some refreshment,

I will be there —

if you venture near

then maybe you will find me

And if not,

wind may still ruffle

the light across my waters,

trees may still rustle

above the quiet shore,

your life still follow

the course that has been charted

and I’ll still hold you

gently in my heart.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 19, 2018

Incomparable

The infinite will not compare you

to anyone. The infinite has room

to see you infinite, has room for everyone

to be one of a kind,

in their perfectly appointed place

You in particular

(not to stint the same for every entity)

celebrated in the amazing way

you are what is needed,

(a role that opens out for each of us,

each of us holy,

each of us resplendent where we are.)

©Wendy Mulhern

November 18, 2018

Protection

We need to put our heads together

and entwine our arms,

make a structure,

an impervious protection,

need to spread it largely out —

over everyone, in fact —

to hold us safe,

hold us all within

So when that old corkscrewing vortex

comes hurtling, twisting through

with its cold insinuation,

“what’s the point of you?”

we will each know

it has no toehold

in our sense of what is true,

and that old lie

will simply fall away.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 17, 2018

Taking the Train

We have come so far

along this haphazard path,

our footsteps not following

what we thought held our gaze,

our gaze, it turns out, being

too distracted and unfocused

to draw us to our hoped-for destinations

We will take the train —

its paths are laid down,

we don’t need to determine every step.

We’ll arrive where it takes us,

and if our lives feel unmoored, uprooted,

we won’t notice that so much

as long as we are moving.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 16, 2018

Look Up

Look up, little one —

there is a light to guide you

through the wistful night,

through the longing day

There is a place you are received

and not just at the end

of a long and lonely span

Your reception is right here, right now,

in the ever-present truth about your being

(a truth that never leaves you,

being immanently what you are)

It touches in

to the infinity that fuels your presence,

releases grace into your day,

robes you in its royal essence,

lights up everything

along your way.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 14, 2018

The Road Home

The road home was clear —

red lights streaming on ahead

but not too many,

no fog, no rain,

music to soothe

and some to keep us wide awake,

navigating traffic, hills, and bends

The road home is clear.

(We’ve learned, for now,

not to talk about it much —

it’s solo, after all,

and not negotiated)

When we arrive,

in some sense, in some aspect,

we may share with each other

what we have gained.

The road home

may not be always clear,

but we will own it,

we will persevere.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 12, 2018

Apocalypse

We may prepare for the Apocalypse,

may prepare for many —

fortified and settled in, stocked up

and battened down

We could prepare for the Apocalypse

of flood, of fire, of drought, of cold,

yet the Apocalypse is not what’s ripped away,

but what’s revealed when everything is gone

Hence the preparation of the heart,

not to survive so much as how to be alive,

to see beyond the veil

of all the worry, judgment, dread,

to what, when all is finished, will remain.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 11, 2018

100 Mile Bakery

Days are getting colder —

wind shifts the sun between radiant and bleak,

my face feels the glow of heat

from fires and indoor furnaces

Here at the bakery

amid the generosity of pies,

I imagine holidays,

bringing forth a steaming offering

suffused in gratitude

The place, the faces

are undetermined

but I can hope

Life will provide

all the needed elements

for the occasion,

all that will be given and received.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 10, 2018

Celebrated

Outside and inside,

two kinds of evening glow,

and there’s one thing —

really only one—

you need to know

As sun’s last light

paints orange above the hills

and the fire has finally

driven out the evening’s chill,

there’s one thing —

really only one needed —

to make the warmth stay,

to make it real

Heaven and earth

may be the same playground

where the children of the house can romp.

They are never uncompanioned,

never left alone, 

they’re always celebrated,

always home.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 9, 2018

Late Afternoon

The bite of breeze

and the smell of earth

and the fading warmth

of the late-appearing, early setting sun,

a time to feel

rich in my domain

and glad of others’ work well done

The land is holy,

full of so much life

that flows so quickly

into any opening

I don’t know what kind of bird or animal

made the trilling, cooing sound

off in the distance

between the noises of machinery

but it sounded sweet,

it sounded like home.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 8, 2018

Each Moment

It wasn’t explained to us.

In fact, it was a secret, 

guarded, mostly, by misdirection

though somewhat, too, by outright lies

We didn’t know how each moment rises

to meet the kiss of truth, the sun-warmed love —

bright ripple radiating outward

in the moment’s consummation

Each moment of each being,

morning, and evening, and at noon,

out and out along the gleaming sands of day. 

©Wendy Mulhern

November 7, 2018

Politics

We thrashed through the question

of changing someone’s mind,

we circled through the arguments

and came out where we started

(or a little bit behind)

There’s the problem of perspective

and the greater challenge: what stance

will my stance invoke?

How can this structure do anything

but drill down deeper

in its own opinion?

Can’t win by trying.

Can’t win by not doing anything.

We need a larger lever

or a better place to stand.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 5, 2018

The Daily Vote

I will vote for the strength of being,

vote for the light

and not what covers it,

not what tries to cordon off and own it,

looming large with rules

for how, when, and for whom

it needs to shine

I will vote for the heart’s whisper

within each one of us

which tells us, contradicting roles and rules,

just what we are

We won’t be overthrown

for there is no power

outside the seed within,

no power but that which calls it forth.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 4, 2018

Uniting

I move silent

in the act of holy opening,

rip of light, all along the edge,

kindled power, tight-roped joy,

a dance in awe of its unfolding

This is how I always meant to move

but never could, while trying, too, to own it,

this is me without the self sense,

bringing light which isn’t mine

except in this surrender

of all I called myself,

in this uniting

with that which owns my love.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 3, 2018

Measure

No need for agony —

it doesn’t matter

how many times you failed —

no need for bludgeoning yourself

with all those painful awkward memories

You can leave them in a pile.

You don’t have to take them with you,

and, in fact, you can’t.

You will not be judged by them —

they never have been you

No one will weigh you,

for your measure is infinity

and your unfoldment

beyond all time.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 2, 2018

Traction

You raise your cup again

to down the draft of grief

as you must drink it

every time it fills

If it provides

something that you need,

or if you need to drink

until the well is dry,

we cannot say —

this is not, it would appear,

one of those things in life

about which we have a choice

This is just the trek across the day,

any one of them, every one,

this is going through the motions or

it is the steady necessary traction

cleansing as it draws you

with the urgency of home

to your core.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 1, 2018