Here

 

Am I allowed to come back to
happiness as a normal state?
Am I allowed, despite naivete
I have been disabused of,
despite egregious flaws
of which I've now become aware,
to live a day in simple joy?
And maybe many of them,
day after day (like I've been doing)?

Can it be real that I have left the fear behind
(the fear of falling to my deserved demise)?
Here at my center,
a tender truth is telling me
stay here. Stay here always
to learn this yes.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 28, 2022

Still life with catalpa pods and clove box

 

There's a certain delight
in setting things down just so,
starting a conversation
in texture and color,
source and form

These silent things
speak of connections
I can almost make,
in a language
I can almost understand.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 28, 2022

After the heat

 

Evening coolness begins to flow in
through the tops of trees,
deeply welcome
after the day's heat

Everything has meaning  -
blackbird song and colors through the windows,
the ponderous importance of everybody's life.
Even moths and dandelion fluffs
have infinite weight
in the balance of eternity,
as do you, my friend,
as do you.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 27, 2022

Swimming

 

Sometimes I feel myself swimming,

as structures dissolve around me -
all the things that people try to count on,
all the reasons people give for living

There still seems to be a grand march
of purpose - many marches  -
stridently in conflict,
but my sense of what is real
sinks right through them -
I can't align myself to their directions

Sometimes I feel new life forming -
seeds amidst the liquid,
reaching out to web together,
understanding substance in a way
we haven't done before,
giving me a place to plant my hope.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 26, 2022

Collective

 

With my heart I follow
the blades of grass
down to their still points -
each one has a center,
each is individual,
so none become displaced,
though waves of wind sweep over,
bending them silver red green gold
in turn, though they bow in sequence,
then spring back -
each one has its anchor in the ground,
each its source of nutrient,
each its place in the land
to rise up into everything it is
and shimmer the collective dance.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 23, 2022

Permeating

 

I have been severe with myself
(though maybe not as much as I deserve)
I have needed this reckoning
to see the many ways I've come up short

But then I keep on finding this release
that cancels out the penalty
with a surfeit of fine grained joys,
appreciation at the smallest scale,
a permeating of respect
that grants to everything
its time and place,
and in this governance
there is forgiveness
for me and everyone who's lost the way.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 21, 2022

Accounting

 

Today I notice
the thoughts I awoke with
each found their way
to some kind of fruition,
kindness being relevant,
and not worrying,
and focusing all tutelage
toward my own heart,
me being the one
who has this day to learn from,
needing all the grace
that's offered me today.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 20, 2022

Trajectories

 

I will not entertain

plans to bump down
an unforeseen hill, to land
in whatever lump the landscape leaves me

Lots of stories say we're born to die,
but I don't know if anyone
really believes that

It may tug and tag along,
an unacknowledged fear,
it may get an honored place
in one's belief system

Bit I will not let go
of the darting silver sense
of living in a deeper liberty,
and every day I live,
I'll strive to rise
to where we know
we're never born
and never die.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 18, 2022

The gift of failed biscuits

 

... was stepping through long grass and clover,
failing to keep my socks dry,
till the rapid curve of the hill,
where I tossed each biscuit
on its short and tumbling arc
while late sun graced daisies and seed heads
in moments when cloud veils lifted,
and the house on its perch on the hill
exuded welcome.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 17, 2022

Altar

 

Today has been graceful,
its revelations gentle,
its tasks supportive of the higher learning
to which I'm called

I'm called to bring my efforts to the altar
and leave them there, for after all,
what use are they to me,
except I offer them?
And what can I receive
but what was made to fit me
by that same all good
with which I leave my gifts?

©Wendy Mulhern
June 16, 2022

Remember

 

Try to remember
when the demons howl at you
that you have the right
to remain silent. You are not required
to defend yourself, to be drawn in
to their nets of intimation

Try to remember
that we are here for you,
and we can vouch for your innocence,
we can vouch for your worth

And even though you may succumb
to many tears at their taunts, you will find
that the truth about you
lets you leave them in the dust
as soon as you remember.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 15, 2022

You on the land

 

I like it when you go out
and look at things and think

I like when you stride
in your boots with your scythe
and slice the grass down

I like you on the land,
for the two of you
bring out the life in each other

Plans calm, and the breath of the moment
knits you to each other -
you rise and rest
in each other's care.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 13, 2022

Diagnosis

 

You are surrounded
by the knowing
of what you are,
the comfort of the truth
you are comprised of

You can relax
and let it hold you up,
be still, and let it sink
all the way in

This may take some time -
that's fine. It can and will
reach to every tiny network
of your being, seep and saturate,
feed, regenerate,
transform what you know yourself to be,
heal your wounds and set your spirit free.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 11, 2022
.

More rain

 

Another rain serenade,
collected chorus from roof and gutters,
background patter modulated
by the breath of wind

We'll sleep well again tonight,
tucked in with gratitude,
secure in our house haven.
We'll grow like spring shoots
in the most air, stretch into
whatever morning is spread before us.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2022

Summer rain

 

After dark the summer rain

starts up again, its breath blown softly
through the open windows,
its quiet rustle
accompanied by one frog

It seems to plan
to grow back all the grass
we mowed today,
whose scent it sends to us
sweet and for free.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 9, 2022

My wish for you

May you wake up expansive,
touched to generosity
by luminous joy,
having found the place in you
too close for doubt to come between,
where you know that you are welcome,
child of light.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 8, 2022

Responsibility

 

I'm not responsible  for showing up
for the bad dream. I'm not responsible
for fixing it. I don't owe it
attention or due diligence  -
I can let it go.

I am responsible
for my allegiance to the light of day,
I am required to let it guide
all of my perceptions, all my decisions,
feel its illumination from inside.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 7, 2022

Prospect

 

We find you innocent,
and the prognostication
of a long horrid journey
falls away

And the notion of yourself
just discovered to be
a fearsome monster
with many a rage
for which to pay
turns out to be a dream

We shake ourselves free
from troubling illusions  -
we seek refuge
in what guarantees your being,
we get used to the prospect
of not being afraid,
not now,
and not ever again.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 4, 2022

Our comprehension

 

What I say with bravado
falls hollow. And takes up space
like dust and clutter, till I clean it up,
till I abandon it for silent waiting
to hear what's really true fill up the space

It fills with words that sing like sweet rain
(scent of cilantro on my fingertips)
and bring no sentencing, no consequence
for anything we did or did not do

They bring assurance
that we were always more than what we thought,
large as our comprehension
of our God.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2022

After a wet spring

 

It's a year of long grass -

seed heads at face height sometimes,
clover our feet disappear in,
visually soft, full of many colors
within the green

It's a year of eager growth
encouraged by forgiveness  -
something within rising continually up,
touching the softness,
reaching into it

Everything has been washed clean.
We, too, can feel it,
we, too, discover flowers
that may not have bloomed
(at least not like this)
for many years.
We offer our fields as gift,
as mystery, as thanks.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2022