Harbor Song

Mystic harbor, grey on grey,

the breath of peace descending,

rainfall, nightfall, come what may,

the buoy clangs unending —

this, too, could be your song

Beyond the thought of what to say

or how the mood is trending,

the quietude can find its way

to meet your heart ascending —

you, too, belong.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 30, 2019

It’s Universal

You may be rising

but the tide is, too —

we don’t go anywhere alone

Landmarks fall away,

measurements, too —

we can’t compare,

so much is new,

so much is felt in the attention

to these moments, all subsuming

as they are

Try to notice one

in the fleeting space of a thought,

try to hold it through the scrim

of day to day

If you miss this one,

the rhythm will come round again,

the place to grasp, in here and now,

infinity.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 29, 2019

Walking in Truth

Feet step out in wonder —

Try to describe this,

soaring down the tailwinds,

bright spirited day after the squall

Flowers bloomed where she walked —

that was one way to say it,

joy meeting joy

not something precious or singular,

just the natural way of moving

and its expected effects

Surely goodness and mercy

shall follow me

(I shall have a legacy of blessing)

all the days of my life

that’s a way to say it, too,

in the house of presence

where each breath

brings forth fruit.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 27, 2019

Huh

Turns out, it seems,

I’m not afraid of death.

It is a subtle thing,

the lack of terror — no struggling up

of something held at bay,

no frantic pushing back

against the upflow,

no fear-frayed patches present in my prayer

A thing to only notice in thunderstorms

(bike tires plowing through the water,

lightening flashing, touching down ahead)

or in an airplane, when they talk about the life vests,

or other times I haven’t yet observed

Not that I have a death wish, either —

I’d rather have my life be affirmation

that Life is here, and kind,

I’d rather be here for the folks that count on me

but being unafraid —

that’s something I don’t mind.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 26, 2019

Shifting

There was movement everywhere

but presence was defined

by stillness,

a translucency

whose glow was seen

between the arcs and threads,

between the strides,

between the branches

There was music ringing out

from deep within the silence,

what seemed dark

becoming clear

in the sheen of rolling curve

We turned our focus

from what we thought defined us

to what was underneath,

to what has been here all along.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 25, 2019

My ipod serves up love songs on the plane

I listen and my empathy

follows the threads of passion

(threads like water veins

upon the land below,

the rivers, lakes, the melting snow,

the cities clustered there, along the roads)

I feel the longing and the pain,

I feel the exaltation —

my spirit hums an all-embracing chord

that circles round the threads

and drops beneath,

enfolding them in overarching blue.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 24, 2019

In the afternoon

It may look like I’m weeding

but I’m harvesting — these dandelions

are destined for great things,

performing their wizardry

on crusty ground,

pushing through,

making room for more life

The sun was here briefly,

later the cold wind came through,

but didn’t deter us from harvesting

sweetness and strength

from the field of our connection

and the truth that is with us

wherever we go.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 23, 2019

The Taste of Freedom

At a certain point

I started wanting

that texture, that color,

that I couldn’t name

but still could feel and see,

still could taste

(at the back of my tongue,

the place before the swallow,

the place of longing

and satisfaction)

(the color of water

when you drink it,

the clear and the shine of it

as it goes down)

And the longing settled

in between my toes,

urging my feet to find

the steps ahead

Time to move out of the narrow place,

time for a new yoke —

the yoke of freedom itself

with the consummate attention it requires

to keep myself

within the present dewdrop of its taste.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 22, 2019

The World of People

Everywhere we stopped,

I wanted to eavesdrop,

wanted to throw myself

into the current

of other people’s lives,

wanted to feel

whatever it was they were feeling,

though I never really could quite hear

Out on the land

I am alive to the sounds

of geese and ravens,

turkeys, owls, the cycles

of water, of the seasons,

and the tutelage of Spirit,

my mind cleaving eager

to what it teaches

The world of people

drifts so far away,

I forget the goals, the games …

and though I don’t know

if I’ll ever play again,

I still, it seems, am drawn to watch.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 21, 2019

Trusts

With all the offerings of easy trust

we may accept some

that are not trustworthy,

just for the ease of letting go

of something that seems so hard

There is always a deeper trust

we can sink our roots towards —

it will offer strength

rather than ease,

and though the ease may seem

so tantalizing, 

the strength, most certainly,

will satisfy us more.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 19, 2019

Even So

If every life story

turns out not to matter,

if none of the shocks and the falls

or the haunting doubts

or the lonely lows

can make any mark on your being

If none of your items of pride

with their giddy highs,

their sidelong looks

(weighing your relative worth)

are anything you can protect,

anything that can remain

Still you will find

that the spark of your love

and all you’re compelled to defend,

your unplumbable worth

and the need for your presence

shine in Life’s eyes without end.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 17, 2019

Timeless newness

The wonder of the place

makes you forget stuff,

transfixed, as you are,

with translucency,

suffused with a sense of

the utmost importance,

the tenderest smallness,

of you here now,

you as you never have known yourself

but glimpse that you always have been

You find you forget stuff,

but nothing that matters —

wounds fall away,

and old disappointments,

explanations and excuses, too,

in this timeless 

newness of you.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 15, 2019

Someone Who

I’ve decided I like being

someone who can’t be let down,

someone who’s always

able to offer

comfort to another

I prefer that to being

someone who has standards of behavior

with the duty to require them of others,

who needs to disapprove

when standards are not met,

who needs to coach when people get it wrong

That way, if you’re falling off the edge,

or if you think you’ve lost all your deserving,

I can let you feel

the comfort that’s unending,

you can know the depth

of that which treasures you

And that’s a comfort which,

when I can give it,

unfailingly will comfort me as well.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 14, 2019

Green

In this moment I understand

how green is magical,

how it transcends the rain

and is exalted by it,

how it finds a way to glow

even under the darkest sky,

how it fills me,

how it elicits joy.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 13, 2019

Breathing

The land can teach you

about deep breathing —

breathing days of rain

and water running down

under the ground, surfacing

in unpredicted places

breathing hours of sun —

the freshness of everything

shining its praise

in scent and in sparkle

breathing the rhythm of work —

what we can do, what needs us now,

when we can rest,

when we are done

The land is teaching me

ways of fewer words

and more action, less policy

and more decision based on

what is present in this moment,

based on what the land

is breathing now.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 12, 2019

Jumping In

Here we are

playing double dutch

with the rain,

looking for a place to jump in,

feeling confounded

though not yet wet

Eventually we’ll guess

there’s nothing to be gained

by waiting inside

delaying our move —

wetness is, after all,

temporary, as also,

though less obviously,

is mud.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 10, 2019

Working in the yard

My hands still smell like loam

from digging with gloves in the dirt

which came in through the fingertips

settling under my nails —

I’ve scrubbed my hands

and the remaining scent

may be more memory than anything

The best part was the teamwork —

the two of us trying to move the black locust,

all stump and spine, rooted tight against the wall.

The choosing of tools, the digging, the prying,

the leverage applied, the clipping, the sawing

till it finally came free, and you settled it in

while I put tools away

and robins sang bright 

as evening nestled down.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 9, 2019

A Lightening

I sense now, in many,

a learning to yearn

for a freedom of being

that lives beyond fear,

leaning into their hope

and their imagination

for the wide open space

where their essence

is unassailable,

thus lightening the field,

allowing room, here, for more people,

if not in the certainty of believing,

still in the place of admitting:

this is something that I want,

this is something that I am.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 8, 2019

Take a breath

A sudden light revealing snakes —

twisted, tangled, convoluting —

all the things I’ve thought

about these others here

while never casting light within myself

How could I, then, have thought myself

a better model? How blind to think 

that I could hold judgmental thoughts

without the mud and soot of false opinions

smearing all my windows from within!

Well, take a breath. It’s always

a good idea.  And let the sunlight

reveal what has been cleansed

and what’s still needed. Let tenderness

towards both yourself and others

wash everything and show you what is true.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 7, 2019

Your mind’s delight

Never underestimate the value

of imagining what’s possible,

never assume you can’t 

have what you want,

never believe that you should settle

for less than the whole of your dream,

the whole grand many-branching

multi-plumed array of it —

it is, after all,

in your mind for a reason,

and your mind’s delight

produces clear results.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 6, 2019

The Choir of Heaven

To bring in range the choir of heaven

consider what it means

that there be no more death —

not now or ever — that the whole veil

be drawn away, and we perceive that

no one, and nothing, has ever died

If there has been no loss

of loved ones, or of wisdom,

or of life experience,

of ancient ways of knowing,

of lessons dearly learned,

of birds and animals,

of fish, of trees,

of anyone who loved them

That whole choir of ancestors

and children, and newly resurrected hope

would fill the realm of home,

would fill infinity —

Yes, I will be there, too

and yes, I too will sing.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 5, 2019

Change of Refuge

You have huddled so long

in that poison refuge

that you may have forgotten

how it feels to breathe deeply,

how it feels to stretch out,

to relax, to bask in the warmth

of belonging

You have been surprised

that others haven’t come to join you —

you wondered where they went —

did you suspect 

that there might be a different refuge?

— One that would hold you

in a bountiful affection,

one that didn’t require venom

on your part, or anyone’s,

one that didn’t have

those soul-effacing rules,

the bitter bite exacted for admission

I’ll tell you something true:

if your refuge breaks,

or if you leave it, 

you’ll find another.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 3, 2019

Another point of leaving

I take this ride

fueled by spring —

by blossom scent and balmy air

I hit against the memories

along the road — some time it’s been

since last I traveled here

I’m brought up short

by change — holes in the tree scape,

boxy buildings where they were —

Surprised again by how a gap

can suddenly unhook the tendrils of a place

and make it mine no more.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 2, 2019

Unhooked

I’m amazed

at the stillness

of that which refuses to argue,

refuses to engage

with any of the hooks,

which, in fact, offers

a reality that counters

even all the stridently opposing views

It silences them utterly,

presenting, as it does,

a mode of being that precludes

any of the self-promoting sides.

The arguments of

everything that’s wrong

have nothing more to say

before the simple presence

of what’s right.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 1, 2019

Today it’s good

Today, it’s good

to greet the sun

(the unpredicted sun)

sleepy, to the sound of turkeys

and the sight of steam

from the outdoor shower

turning into a cloud as it rises

against the blue,

to feel a patch of sun between the trees

squarely on my shoulder

Today it’s good to feel

the fountain of my source,

a light, a fire, a radiance,

deep within, and deep below

all the surface fixtures of the day,

today it’s good to notice all of this.

Today, it’s good.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 31, 2019