Good Things

 

Teach me to wish for good things,
for there is plenty of power
in the framing of what is good,
in noticing
how eloquently each good thing
speaks for itself,
not needing to be defined
by absence, or by otherness,
not needing to be specified
as change from what has been
or what has been imagined

Each note of blackbird song,
each creaky goose call,
each evening frog chorus
shows the nature of good things  -
finding their perfect tone
in the breath-held air.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 31, 2021

Identity

 

Who am I
if I am not my words,
nor yet my attitude,
if I am not my context
or the things I've thought and done,
what's happened to me ...?

Who are you
if you are not
behaviors I observe,
or ways you interact
or things you do?

I take the thought of you,
of me, of all of us -
I try to move it deeper  -
to that which sparks us awake,
alive,
what ties us with a lifeline
to the infinite.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 30, 2021

Core

 

If I wanted to save someone  -
anyone  -
though I didn't know them,
though I wished them well,
just in a general sense -
if I wanted to be of help somehow

Perhaps there's a practice -
enlarging my tent -
in which I recognize
the core of power
present in everyone,
and how fervently
that core loves truth,
and how it is so nourished
by its own integrity
that no other proposition
affords temptation

How it doesn't take a movement,
but just for that core
to rise up
in any heart, in any life,
and we will see corruption fall
like lightening from heaven,
collapse to nothingness,
and so many who were bound
will step free.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 29, 2021

 

I guess these days 

I've  been talking less,
which should be no surprise
given
so few people around
but I mean
I"ve been talking less to myself,
now that I've given up instruction,
now that I've given up self help

And I guess that's a footstep
towards listening more -
to the rhythm of everything,
to the quiet moments,
to the voice of the half gone
blackberry leaf, that says
yes, we are here for the deer,
we will provide for them,
and the click of the secret door,
present everywhere,
opening to unfathomable richness.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 28, 2021

The essence of you

 

I know the essence of you
by what shines,
like moonlight in a well -
it doesn't matter how deep -
the response is still the same

I know the essence of you
even by the shadows,
for to have shadows
there must be light projecting out

If I bring my truest sense
of who I am,
if I am honest,
if I will take the time,
if I am still enough,
I may gain this reward  -
the deep honor of getting to know
the essence of you.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 27, 2021

Still Winter

 

It's still winter,
blackbirds singing by the pond
notwithstanding

It's still winter,
momentary snow amidst the rain
attesting

And it's still enough
to find a way to feed and warm ourselves
and take the time to watch the snow
command the scene
for the brief time
of its ascendancy

We will make progress
and measure it
not against our endless list of tasks
but in the pace
of winter's strict permissions.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 26, 2021

Gifts

 

How could I have thought
my gifts were mine to keep?
- for they were gifts, which means
they must be given ...

And how could I have thought
the gift would come from me
in a straight channel, like a raindrop
down a window?

When clearly every gift
is what is given us
so we can bring it
to the neverending flow
like water in a river
that comes to it from everywhere  -
all the watershed calling it forth,
birthing it with every contribution
to celebrate its neverending source.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 24, 2021

Words

 

The truth is not in the words.
The words are what rise, inevitably,
like morning steam,
from wood, from fields,
true as their source
and the forces that bid them rise.
They can be followed
by one who chooses the necessary silence,
all the way to truth

But when they're argued over,
they move and dissipate
in all the curling currents of the air -
you won't find truth in words alone -
it isn't there.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 23, 2021

Introspection

 

It's a good time in your life
he said, to think about these things
(when I confided what I had been pondering)

Like the effect of being handed stuff
you never worked for,
but are assured that you deserve,
that somehow
the hoops you jumped through
and the mantle you assumed
should be enough
to buy you all those things
and make you worthy

What is the real price
for learning to be real?
How did the people who achieved it
come upon it?
These things I start to fathom
from walking on the land
and building fires
and fetching water.
But there is so much more -
enough to occupy my days
for now, and for as far as I can see.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 22, 2021

Closing down the well house at night

 

The path I walk
so many times.a day
(and now at night,
my lantern faintly
showing me the way,
soft clouds lit up
by just a touch of moonlight,
soft air against my face)
is not without its thoughts of future  -
what this place may sometime be -
but seems to have less of the past,
our forward press so steady on,
and, too, the sense of dissolution,
of all the past now found
to have been founded on illusion,
and the need to step ahead
lest my dissolving footprints
catch up to me.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 21, 2021

January 20, 2021

 

In the breathing of this nation
we can feel
deep desire
for reconciliation,
to be healed -
not that wrongs be covered  -
that they be revealed
so we can end our unmoored
drifting through illusions

Let us wash the disfiguring ignorance
from our hands, from our faces,
and be weaned from our dependency
on things that curate chasms.
We have sinned, yes, we have sinned,
but let it not be hidden from us -
we, too, can find within,
the strength to rise
with a refusal to be herded,
to be lied to,
to be deceived because it's easy

Even when it's hard,
the truth is cleaner and more bracing,
more health giving than what we have been fed.
Today we stand together
in the willingness
to live inclusive unity instead.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 20, 2021

Owning it

 

Much is said, by many,
about the best way to live one's life,
and I find myself,  with something
less than a thought,
releasing what opinions
I may have had
about that
and thinking,
Is not every life
destined to find its perfect resolution?
Is not every life
its own singular path?

Then how can anyone
standing outside of it
say the way a life should go?
And how can anyone live a life
without owning it?

©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2021

An Anniversary

Ten years ago today I started my poetry blog. It was my intention to publish a poem a day. In practice,  I have averaged about 24 or 25 poems a month. My blog now contains over 3000 poems, and I plan to publish my 10th book of poetry in March. 

People have asked me, a few times, how I can manage to find something new to write about each day. The answer is that each day is new. It's not up to me to come up with new things  - the day does that. It's just up to me to listen and  notice. And I'm not a static being existing separate from the day. The day includes me, and everything I think and observe. If I'm humble and willing, I will find myself in the great joy of being in service to the present opportunities for unfoldment and delight. This may be my current definition of a poet's life.

I have great gratitude to everyone who reads my poems. Your reading completes the circuit and brings the poems to life. Thank you very much for your participation, throughout these years, in this endeavor.

With love,
Wendy

 

At work

 

As I looked up
and saw the dark clouds
riding on the north wind,
there was excitement in the air,
something I noticed
as I walked with purpose
in my course of work

And the narrowness of the moment
of looking up from work
to see the clouds and feel the wind
made it a sweet song,
much like a flute
pulls sweet music
from the smallest places.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 17, 2021

Evening by the fire

 

Finding myself happy,
much spirit having blown
all through my day  -
the weather's kindness
and the joy of shared work,
and laughter, more laughter than usual,
and frogs at night  - think of it! -
frogs in January!

Surely there will be more winter,
bot the sun setting just a bit later
was not lost on me,
and there is hope
for riding like this
on the top of the days
all the way to spring.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 16, 2021

Everything

 

Well, now that I know
that you have to give everything,
hold on to nothing, hold nothing back,
now that I know what I want more than anything,
What am I doing right now?

Taking this moment for emptying, emptying,
till I resemble a waterfall  -
emptying everything coming through me
till I can't be defined by my lack -
starting the flow here
for everything, everything
here in each moment,
to give and give up.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 15, 2021

Home Fire

 

I'm keeping it with me,
a calm like a coal,
a small, centered glowing,
a soft source of warmth

The size doesn't matter -
its potency dwells here
where it can expand
to fill all of the house

Though it may seem tiny,
it still bursts forth merrily,
brightens and cheers me
and fills me with hope

It dwells at the still point
of all that I am
and centers me
back to my home.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2021

I can help you

 

I can help you, I said,
and I knew this was true
though I had no thoughts prepared
(or maybe for that reason)

I can help you because,
obviously, I'm here,
and nothing's ever put here to be helpless

Therefore I'll find the way
my hope can reach you,
and what I've proved for me
will have a place for you

And the fact of reaching you
will bring elation,
enough to nourish me
just as it always does.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 12, 2021

The time it takes

 

We've learned to be patient
with things that take time  -
so many things take so much more time
than we imagined

Imagining can be a first step.
So can starting up early,
getting things going so they can be ready  -
a fire of coals, a boiling kettle,
the readiness to listen and receive

Up here in the city we still wait -
for our ancient laptops
and our sluggish internet.
Patience remains useful,
as does foresight, and preparation,
not overwhelming what our hands can hold,
just willingness to let each thing unfold.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 10, 2021

Right where we belong

 

This coming home feels like
birds returning from afar,
while bits of tattered fabric
flying in the rush that gathers everything,
are finally abandoned
as the pull proves more substantial
than what's being drawn there

This coming home is where
the gathering force
gives place to stillness,
quiet pools of light
in which mirth bubbles up
because we are all here now
right where we belong.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 9, 2021

The law of stillness

 

We come into the true place
and it doesn't matter
what brought us here -
if it was time, if it was tragedy

There may be a sea of lies,
shifting calculations unanchored
in anything,  grabbing at
what is so in flux
you can't get your hands on it,
while others contrive to be masters of currents,
controlling events from afar

But seas will pass away,
and none of that know how
turns out to be wisdom.
We keep putting our anchor down,
keep grappling for what's true

Until finally, by the law of stillness,
we will find
that we are deeply settled,
that we have been here all along.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2021

Intergalactic

 

From our solitary journeys
we may look out and see each other
suddenly illumined,
our pods rendered transparent
in their singular traverse
across the universe of sound and space

So we are sounded,
so we are known,
and the concepts of together, alone,
are subsumed in the vaster context,
center and circumference
(if only for a moment)
grasped as one.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 7, 2021

Incandescence

 

Having stood now more than once
being the flame,
feeling the light and heat that radiates,
and surer than at any time before
that this is me,
that this is real,
that in this incandescence
is the core of everything
I've ever wished to be

I step more quickly forward
to the heat, I offer my full surface
to the transformation  -
whatever is at hand within my day
I give as fuel
so I can see and be
the radiance again.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 6, 2021

In January

 

Coals lie along each other in the fire
like we do at night,

glowing in each other's heat

In counterpoint, the stratus clouds
now showing faint above the fog
lie along each other in rolling cold,
pink-tinged, here and there,
but no warmer for it

My fingers sting in morning outdoor chores  -
they can't get warm, lying along each other,
and must return to where the fire
is cooking breakfast,
and warming up the room.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 5, 2021

Course

 

Evening has me considering
today's flavor of nothing to say,
rain settled in around the cabin,
a skunk, by the smell outside, underneath

The fire, having warmed our space
and cooked our meal, and made hot water
for cleaning up, is out to pasture  -
a little flame retained so it will not go out
but small enough to not be overbearing

We have worked,
we have wrestled demons,
we will essay the same tomorrow,
this being the stuff of our days,
the course we are here to complete.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2021

Reflection

 

Things about you made me happy today  -
your humming just now,
your hand's touch earlier,
and how, when you were working
(around the corner,  out of my sight)
the feel of your presence
was joy invoking  - little warbles
jumping up inside, making me smile
(though you couldn't see me)

And the color of your presence
was like dark wood burning in a fire,
one side turning to coals
glowing that compelling white-orange,
sending its heat out like chocolate

I wasn't thinking of you in the old way -
this was something new -
the reflection of God walking
right here, so close to me -
in the very same house!

©Wendy Mulhern
January 2, 2021