From the hammock, this afternoon

 

The trees took my thoughts,
spun them up through the lights in their branches,
sent back an illustration
that clarified everything

In that way, it was a conversation -
what they told me, what I told them.
Between us, there was much uplift,
in gesture and perspective,
depth of dimension, colors, light,
exaltation in what, together,
we came to understand.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 29, 2020

By lamplight and by moonlight

 

By lamplight and moonlight,
cricket undulations coming to the fore,
we settle into day's end, sit on the porch
for just a little more

Cooked from the high arc of the day,
cooled by darkening evening,
we feel the equanimity
from work and well earned rest

There's more to do tomorrow,
there's a night's sleep to slide into -
cushion for the coming day,
so little time to find a rhyme
before I slip away.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 28, 2020

Juices

 

My friends of the Spirit -
we are called to celebrate,
from different sides of the country,
from different sides of the veil

It doesn't matter where or when
we are -.this celebration
is of the gifts we bring,
juices gathered and concentrated down
by our experience,
truth we learn at first as image,
wrought out solid through our practice

I can feel close to you -
I can recognize the flavor
of your contribution -
scent of berry, spice, and honey
laces freshest air.
We don't need to talk to share the blessing -
I feel it on the wind that you are there.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 27, 2020

Forgive Me

 

Forgive me, for I went far too long
without noticing your magnificence.
It's an affront to your creator,
failing to see
the grand capacity of your imagination,
the worlds you can construct,
the life force you contain,
and the great colors
of your joy, your love, your hope

These are not things to be dismissed,
to be eclipsed
by some petty requirement my will suggested.
These are things to open out my views,
to rejoice over,
to teach me of the dear design of life.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 26, 2020

To stand before the king

 

Let me be nourished, these years,
by the pure essence
of what I am,
as it rises, churning forth light,
to meet what calls it,
as it answers with its own self
the summons to expand,
to venture forth like stars
in a young universe,
to feed itself with acts of blessing
it is called to give,
to feel itself becoming, more and more,
the very heart of all it has desired

In that way, after three years,
let me stand before the king,
for any king will see
this light outshines
any standards of the world,
this light is true -
true, always, to its source.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 25, 2020

Falling

 

"Not one sparrow shall fall to the ground without your Father "

And so it is with falling,
with weather and with cadence
with things we see and cease to see,
windfall, rainfall, nightfall,
and things we hear - the sound of words,
rhythm of talk, of footfall

Nothing falls alone,
and everything is met
in the unknown place of falling
where no one can see it -
the story drops from view
but hasn't ended,
the needs of each one there
tenderly tended.


©Wendy Mulhern
September 24, 2020

Supreme Wisdom

 

Supreme wisdom bubbles with mirth.
There's nothing ponderous about it.
It takes the measure of every living thing,
and nothing is found wanting.
Every being is so delightful,
so spot on perfect, so ingenious
in how it's made, supreme wisdom
can't help but laugh
in sheer appreciation

In my quest for wisdom, let me feel
the lightness of the light -
light-hearted and heart-lighted,
a gravitas with an enduring twinkle,
and space for everyone,
and time to see them.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 23, 2020

Rethink

 

It's not too late to turn around -

the voice that says you've come too far
along this path, you've made your choice,
there is no turning back -
that voice is not your own,
and it's not true

It's not too late to change your mind,
change it completely, change the way it thinks -
you are not bound to have the same reactions,
however many times
you have before

It's not too late,
for you are just beginning, really.
We all are very young, very new
at this art of being -
we have eternity in which to learn.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 22, 2020

Report at the Equinox

 

Blackbirds are back,
Crickets are still here,
The ferns are still green
but they seem more subdued,
sitting, perhaps, a bit lower

Needles drop from firs
from time to time,
Some maples are starting
to show fall colors,
Smoke came through
but now has mostly lifted -
there's blue between the white clouds
in the upper sky

This moment's pause in wind
portends that it may rain soon,
My skin is gritty
from airborne dirt and ash,
The work awaiting us is bountiful -
All in all, it feels good to be back.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 21, 2020

Time Off

Somehow we needed to take a pause
from the colors of duty
which are the colors of
everything we see in our day,
the chores to do, 
the work to prepare for,
and encamp within the colors
of other worlds — of fantasy,
of music, of time off
from our trajectory,
to drift in the colors 
of movies, and shows,
and the sense that
if we don’t leave tomorrow
we’ll still arrive.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 18, 2020

Wait

 

I’m here to work out
the problem of waiting,
something like being sure
I’m at the right stop,
or more that I’m scanning
along the right vector

The reign of truth
doesn’t unfurl down the lines of time,
where cause-effect links
are an illusion

What I wait for
has always been here —
it’s my intense intent
to see it present.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2020

Waiting

 

It takes one kind of fortitude
to stand against the flame,
to face disaster, to act decisively

It takes another to endure the smoke,
the dreariness, the waiting,
to find some way to still be active
when there’s nothing you can do

Life goes on anyway,
algae forming in the pond …
leaves turn, dragonflies hover,
berries ripen, and dry out,
their own cycles
absorbing them entirely.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 15, 2020

Morning Walk

 

 I could feel the rush of tears

behind the smoke, behind the fog,
a smell of sea breeze
providing salt

I wanted them to wash
all the stories down like sand,
to cut through to the place
where pebbles gathered

I wanted us all to have the chance
to start over again,
to bring our regrets to where
we could safely lay them down,
and finally to look clear-eyed upon each other
without fear, without judgment, without masks.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 14, 2020

Cocoon

 

As easy as a yawn,
as easy as a comfy chair
with plenty of light,
as easy as a conversation
with memories and things to do with hands,
the afternoon and evening settled in

It has been an easy landing
from the place we had to leave,
and easy place to stay inside,
since we have to


We can call it a cocoon for now,
we can get ready
for the time, coming so soon,
to jump back in. 

©Wendy Mulhern
September 13, 2020

Toward the end of the fires

 

We won’t talk about hope
before its time.
We won’t talk about rebirth
while there are still hot embers
on the ground.
We will acknowledge
each thing gets what it needs
right when it needs it

Pick up what’s true for you
here on the ground. If it’s mourning,
do it heartily, honestly, wholly.
If it’s gratitude for how important
you now know life to be,
for what you found right under
all the desolation - hold that.
If it’s the life that roars in counter burn
against destruction, then roar with it
as long as that is needed

You may notice, at some time,
the web of care that rushes in,
you may feel a deep relief
that all is not lost.
You may come back with new resolve
and fresh humility
to be a part of this, to deeply live.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 12, 2020

The Clearing Stream

How the situation turned, I see,

is less important
than how my thought is turning —
the still power
that holds beneath the surface,
the calm current
the now dispersing ash reveals

The situation
will pull itself in line,
adjust itself to match the contours
of underlying truth.
It won’t become the truth,
or even truth’s essential measure,
which runs more clear
as these illusions
are washed away.


©Wendy Mulhern
September 11, 2020

Holding the line

Not waiting for something to happen, 

not holding my breath to see 

how the winds will blow, 

how the fire will spread 

 Any one of us, right now

 (and that means me) 

has the power to stop

the spread of fear, of fire, 

of inflammation 

 not by saying nevermind, 

at least we're safe, 

but by knowing that the safety

of every one of us is in our essence, 

the will to live that powers every aspect of our being 

That will commands winds and waves, 

and it can say let's unite, 

and it can say here is the wise move in this moment 

and it can say together, we are victorious, and it can say peace, be still. 

©Wendy Mulhern 

September 9, 2020

Release

Crying is finally
a way to go home,
or the memory of it,
a way to gather enough waters
to lift you out of the dream,
wash you towards the place
where former memories
have no more weight,
where they just shine
like shafts of light dancing in the deep

They come around
to peer into the pool,
to see it fathomless,
to smile and laugh
at all the glints of it,
to see their grace
now made clear
while silent stones
sink gratefully down and down and down.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 6, 2020

Gentle Them

 

They wanted to be washed clean.
They didn't want to be the person
they now saw themselves as,
they wanted to take back their choices,
wanted to identify
with the other side,
wanted to be able to come back in,
didn't know how

And so you had to go to them,
your hand stretched out,
you had to go and wash their feet,
you had to gentle them
one by one,
leave the door open,
wait to see when they'd come in.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 5, 2020

Float

 

Things float into place. End of summer,
what feels like a pause in effort needed
(though it isn't, though we have still failed
to run our full race)

Hint of sea breeze mitigates
what was predicted as a scorching day,
all the trees still green,
but fall leaves on the ground

Children on the swings
pump high, swing back ...
Folks ride by on bicycles
and behind them I see trailing
a wisp of longing
for the imagined freedom
of being in their place.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 4, 2020 

Evening at the Laundromat

 

I liked my shadow
walking in front of me
carrying a pail,
wearing a long dress,
long hair loose, blowing in the wind

I liked the late afternoon,
still hot, but rendered pleasant
by our recent swim

I like the sounds of the night -
the crickets there, the traffic here in town -
Life's subtle adventure
humming behind it all.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 2, 2020

Watermark

 

Water over me, water under me,
water in me. This tremble of change,
of reset, of ripple,
of washing everything smooth,
hovers behind my eyes, my nose,
my mouth

There is peace here, and there is hope
in the quiet of crickets,
in the memory of water -
one day's inundations,
another's ablutions,
oblations I offer
and images I hopefully receive,
visions which I longingly believe.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 1, 2020