Intersections

We may walk together

along these paths,

along these stories,

we may share vistas

but this is not an open beach —

I am aware of holes

big enough to get lost in

Mostly

I’m not mentioning them,

I’m choosing ways

to go over or around them,

things I think you can believe,

things that won’t demand you

to walk the miles with me

through and out of darkness,

things that won’t demand you

to veer off wildly

from what you perceive.

Perhaps you also do the same for me

We only know each other

at the intersection of our known worlds,

and that’s the sector we can walk together.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 29, 2019

Parade

Sure, the thoughts of things

I could have done differently

do parade themselves along

from time to time, still sail by

trailing their pronouncements

about how much better things could be

if only …

My policy is

to let them go by once

but not repeatedly,

and never to climb on board.

The now I have is, after all,

the only one I’ve ever had

or ever will. And so it follows

that all good things are here for me,

as they’ve always been.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 27, 2019

One Dance

And who were you, and who was I

but lights connecting,

pulling out the filament of hope,

on and on, a constant stream

even as the loops and partnerings

within the dance

wove and rewove,

some splendid knot forming

of which we were not aware

or hardly —

the streaming light remaining

the one strong constant

till the smile that dawned in you

lit up the circle,

and as we wove that, too,

it brought us all in.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 26, 2019

Setting Sail

With great effort, I practice

what I don’t even try for with dreams —

that waking up and seconds later

forgetting everything, feeling the shift

into the day’s perspective,

deep sigh of steadying, reset,

to feel the flush of energy

take hold, like well filled sails,

to launch me forward in pursuits at hand

I take the effort, thus,

to reset my impressions,

my conclusions, my opinions —

on noticing the ways

they’ve boxed me in, and bent me down,

to let them go, forget them all,

and set my sails for winds of truth to fill.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 25, 2019

The closest thing to a night without a poem

Days like this

it’s a good thing

it’s not up to me

to keep myself going

I would shrivel up, no doubt,

or wander aimlessly

toward the next thing

to put in my mouth,

would stumble around

from armchair to couch

I would be hopeless according to

all standards of achievement.

But here is the marvel: 

it’s not up to me. And here

is the moral: there’s no need

to hound myself (or anyone).

Our presence and goodness

are assured. Just not by us.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 24, 2019

Tending Kindness

We hope our kindness

will be felt by the land,

the trees we plant,

the soil we tend,

we hope it will respond

with life that springs forth bountiful

We hope the land will teach us

the kind of kindness

that makes things grow —

fledgling efforts strengthened,

courage built, endurance lengthened,

everything that had been tentative

standing forth to claim its place

in the blessed rhythm of the day.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 23, 2019

Temple

Can my prayer 

be anything but constant?

Are there other things to think about

than Mind’s omniscient action?

or other things to feel

than Soul’s uplifting?

Are there other things to do

than Life’s unfolding,

or any other place I’d want to be?

I used to think it sounded dull

to never leave the temple,

but now I’ve been there

and glimpsed the size of it.

It’s everything, really,

and everywhere there is,

and I am happy

to go no more out.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 21, 2019

Tree Planting

When you talk to the baby trees

before and as you plant them,

I hear your boy heart

pure and clear as blackbird song,

unmasked and frank,

strong in its innocence

I know its power in you

is like a tree core —

able to root down deep

and send shoots soaring

higher than anyone ever thought was possible,

high as hope, as love, as sky.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 20, 2019

Gentle, tender, centered

Here is my gentle surrender:

release of the constant instructions,

permission to trust that my being

doesn’t depend on my getting it right

Here is my tender surrender:

escape from the concept of consequence,

knowing my hope and my joy to be held

safe in the fact of my Love

Here is my centered surrender,

faithfully placed in the hands of my Truth,

flying in effortless calm,

borne by the infinite cause.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 18, 2019

As Intended

As fear recedes

we find we are able to relax 

into the moves of the moment,

the rhythm of work

and the easy logic of decisions

We can’t help but notice

this is how we were made to be —

free and generous of movement,

open-eyed, fair-minded, strong,

serving life by living,

living true.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 17, 2019

Illusions of Refuge

And if your refuge fails you

or if it says you’ve failed

and thus cannot avail yourself of safety

Or if your refuge

is put in question

by someone else’s sense of truth

Or if the solace it provides

has grayed, has faded,

has been rendered hollow

Don’t be afraid. 

For even as your demons rage

and push you towards the center,

as the edges crumble

and your space grows smaller

You are already redeemed.

You were delivered

even before the dawning of your first day.

Your substance is secure,

your realm is infinite —

you need no refuge,

for you own your grace.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 15, 2019

In good company

We find the day

right back here where we left it —

it has opened out while we were gone,

the fulness of its breath lifting us

into the company of other days,

expansive and broadening,

rich with experience and memory

We are ushered, thus,

into the company of

all that lives in rhythm with the land —

trees and ravens,

grass and ladybugs,

water and all its courses

and that songbird

whose music so instantly

fills our hearts.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 14, 2019

To my inspiration

I will trust you to be there

in the morning, after the washing clear

of all the wear lines of the day,

after dreams have danced in water-like dimension

through the fluidity that wipes it all away

Somewhere in that time

well before sunrise,

when we awake and start

our pre-departure gatherings,

I trust that you will tuck yourself

like hope, into some pocket,

to lift me, later on,

to be my dawn.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 13, 2019

Lift

And if, today, I offered refuge,

and if, in any way, it was received,

if I spoke truth about a living comfort

and if, at least in part, it was believed

Then I, too, can ride along the lift lines,

I, too, can share the haloed glow —

the gift of refuge, offered freely, will afford me

peace I otherwise might never know.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 12, 2019

Under

We started to feel underwater

though it was just under rain —

under rain, and under tears,

under memories, and under

the warp of time

We tried to speak

but our words were garbled,

bubbles rising up,

purpose having floated off

somewhere else

We couldn’t hold ourselves to anything,

couldn’t stay grounded,

couldn’t fly up to the surface for air

Our only hope

was to close our eyes for long enough

that when we opened them

the whole strange scene would be gone.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 11, 2019

Imagining

I’m imagining us, not too long hence,

walking hand in hand

though in the vision

it’s more like streaming light,

all of us grateful

to have been brought together

I imagine us streaming like that

all the time — then I consider

you will have others, too,

others to share and celebrate

and so will we

and the whole thing

will be so much grander

than I can think up

So I’ll just bask in the warmth of it,

how it comforts me and holds me up

right here and now.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 10, 2019

All That Is

Health springs up

from the same place

that life springs up,

from the same source

of all thought

which is all action

You spring up

every day, every moment,

from the source of yourself

which is infinite

And nothing can be placed

except as it is thought,

except as it is known

and as it’s loved

And nothing blocks

the power of presence,

nothing can impede

the All That Is.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 9, 2019

Action

I’m not content with idleness

but I must learn

not to be fooled

by inactivity that’s masked as motion —

things to do that don’t make any difference,

loopings of the mind that don’t go forward

In due respect

for source and power,

I must recognize

that Mind achieves its ends

and is the only cause of all my action

When Spirit moves,

the waters all move also,

immediate, decisive,

everything as fluid

as the thought comprising it,

everything responsive,

everything accomplished —

this is the model

for all I am to do.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 8, 2019

Assessment

And if I didn’t avail myself

of all the gifts of the day —

if I saw the lifting light of afternoon

but didn’t venture out,

if I saw the pink of eastern clouds

hint of splendid setting in the west

but stayed inside

I still enjoyed the coziness,

the being warm and dry,

the light and heat

available at fingertips

I still enjoyed the prospect

of a peace so unassailable

that everyone, so gratefully

would sink, delighted, in,

cradled, welcomed, and redeemed,

and thus made new.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 7, 2019

Demons Departing

When demons are cast out,

they may go arguing with each other,

as they always do,

disputing their turf,

and which ones

have loftier positions

They may scream and whine and howl,

as they always do,

they may curl up

intending not to move

But they’ll go anyway,

dissolving even as they speak,

their threats and bludgeons

dissolving with them.

They’ll leave the field in blessed silence,

so clear that you can hear a dewdrop fall.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 6, 2019

Low

The day is gray

and mud has had its way

with my boots, my gloves,

my clothes

The work continues

but I have bowed out of it,

cowed by cold dampness

and no given tasks for me

I have retreated to the cabin,

I’ve lit a fire

though it is not a time

for meals, or gearing up

or winding down

I will let myself be low

just for a spell,

just for long enough

to change my mind.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 5, 2019

Facts of Winter

The day lasts much longer

outside the cabin,

mud and snow,

wind and radiant sun,

surprising green revealed by snowmelt,

fresh as spring

We have made this

little box of warmth

we can retreat to,

though it’s darker here

Night will bring moonlight

reflected on the last of the snow,

cold will draw all the heat

out from the floor

while we stay warm by snuggling

till morning comes again

with opportunities

for fire and sun.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 3, 2019

Wings of the Morning

Barely home, and we’re flying again,

touch and go, capture and release,

yet something else, when we consider

our progress down the ever flowing stream

We home in on home each day,

each day, we find it new,

and if we’re lost on any given evening,

there still is time to settle in,

to find our place

And in the morning, off on new adventure,

we’ll know we can touch home at any time,

home in the kindly tended refuge

of being known in ever-present Mind.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 2, 2019

Casting out demons

When I consider how

the cause and effect

in all of this,

each flowing stream,

each footfall,

each sprig of early springing green

is Love,

it’s easy, then, to understand

that nothing is left out,

no demons needed

to guard the chasms,

to hold the terror

in some fierce and awful

bargain of control

No need for demons

and no need for hiding —

each loved idea walks freely,

centered, whole.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 1, 2019