Clear

 

As I seek a way
to smooth the river of your voice
so it runs clear,
the way I've always heard it up till now,
I know it can't be words I use
(for stones, however well placed,
won't stop the rush,
won't still the turbulence)

Instead I lean in to our source,
the Principle, the essence of our being,
I name that as the cause
of everything we hope,
and all we strive for,
and all we do -
I let that be the course
for all our currents,
and all that runs
must hence run true.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 30, 2022

Parade

 

You don't need to ask yourself,
What can I bring? What thing to carry
would make me worthy
to walk in this parade?

No one is watching,
and no one is judging,
but the light of blessing
that falls, just so, upon your head,
the light that graces you, and then reflects
in every face with whom you interact  -
it is the thing we all are here to walk in,
and all of us can tell that it's enough.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 29, 2022

Light Show

 

Now it's evening. The light show is over,
its last act, some pinkness in the clouds ...

The light has gone to gray,
the gold is gone -
though dark has touched down many times today,
this time the rain will not blow through
with sun fast on its heels,
brightening the rain drops,
nestling shimmering clouds among the hills

Now the clouds have tucked themselves in,
pulling darkness over their heads,
letting the last light slip away
into the west.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 28, 2022

Abide

 

I came up from where
it was raining inside my ears,
I came out from where
everything was melting,
I closed that scene like a book,
the characters no longer marching
their abject stories
through my halls of mind

There is a truth
that nothing can  be written on  -
no ink, no etch, can mar its face -
it fills all consciousness,
so nothing more or less
is seen or felt or thought,
and everything abides with it in grace.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 27, 2022

Rendering

 

We all curl back from everything
we have called our days,
we all roll up in recollection,
in gratitude or in misery,
in peace or in regret  -
at this grand reckoning
none of that even matters

All the names we called ourselves,
and what, reflecting those, we called others,
all our fears, facades, and tears
fall together, tumble in
to be smoothed, to be cradled,
to be rendered

And what we all become
is all we've ever been
and everything we've dreamed for -
what we are has proved itself to be
our ticket home.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 26, 2022

Shirking

 

Something like a phrase I don't quite hear,
distorted by a phase shift, fog, or dream,
sidles up against my waiting thought -
could I be your  poem? but says no more

It's gray, and has some drape or flounce of fabric,
holes that could be lace, or rags,
a shuffle and a flutter  -
if I'm still, maybe it will come closer

This could be the price of reading all day
yesterday, and even for some hours today
(though I did dredge up some discipline
to do some chores)

Sunset came anyway,
colors mirroring the fire,
even its shapes echoing the logs,
while fog crept up beneath it ...
granting grace in giving me the sight
before it swiftly rolled off into night.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 23, 2022

Music

 

Every tone that waits to chime
in the hollow of its time,
the perfect silence, opening
to give it space, to let it ring

Every voice that waits to sing
into the perfect listening,
the heart that hears, and tucks the song
where it can echo, sweet and long

All sounds, received, so find their rest,
a still point of their own,
the consummation of their quest,
the hum in which they're known.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 21, 2022

Belonging

 

Who wouldn't give up being a drop
to be a river? It's not as if your essence changes -
it's just that the illusion of isolation
is swept away, in the thunder of the power

It's not as if the forces you run with,
the gravity, evaporation,
are different, though in the multitude
of your collective run,
you may feel more of what they do

And nothing stops you
from leaping up anyway, being
a sparkling drop, dissipating into mist,
drifting far into the forest
to commune with trees

Just that you always feel
the pull home, and the desire to mingle,
and your belonging
in all the secret passageways,
above ground and under -
everywhere the river calls its own.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 20, 2022

Your place

 

Back up, back up, pull your hand
out of the puppet, pull your voice
out of the dream. Stand up
and shake out your mane. Stand straight
and assume your actual character.
You can walk free of the whole set.

You are not bound by any script.
Your  scenery is here - so much vaster
than the theater. You can walk out
into the wild wind. You can laugh
with the whistling trees. You can
let your heart be filled
with the power of your truth.
More than magical, it holds you steady
in the awe-filled unfolding essence,
harmony, and your place in it,
life, and your reason for it,
Love, and its touch in all that you are.
You, now being known.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 19, 2022

Wellness

 

Seven o'clock, and the wellness of the morning
sits more steady than the fog
and the frost that cases spider silk
and grass stalk

It settles in the warmth from last night's fire,
radiated from the stone,
shared with floor and walls

Seven fifteen, and the wellness of the morning
crackles in the new fire,
rests softly in the work
left over from last night

Be well - your life thrives
before any of these things -
it brings the wellness through,
its source infinite,
its expression unconfined.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 17, 2022

Smile time

 

In the smile time of the afternoon,
strands of spider silk gleam with sunshine,
they hang from fences, they catch the wind
and float off - I don't know
if they have a purpose now,
except to be delightful

Deer stayed for about an hour
on the shadowed north side of the house
after the frost was gone,
on ground that never warmed -
they browsed, then sat, and moved on later -
I don't know why they chose that spot

In the smile time of the afternoon,
the air relaxed, and let itself get warm
even out beyond the porch's shelter,
and no one could resist
the quiet calm
the infinite provided
for that fleeting time.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 16, 2022

Invitation

 

When I come to the beach
and I take off my shoes
and the wind and the water
ask me to dance,
I can never refuse,
for the sound and the smell and the feel
of that last salt-tinged rush across the sand,
and the sheen, and the pattern of ripples,
push the ocean message up through my feet  -
all that vast chorus of power -
and I can't help but fly.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 14, 2022

When you know

 

When you know what's true,
the cabinet of stresses
opens its doors
and lets everything fall out -
all the pressures, all the worries,
chagrin, regret, despair  -

They dissipate, and the place they were
begins to fill in
with the obvious order
of things that are living  -
branches reaching up,
roots extending down,
everything expressly purposed  -
nothing random, nothing useless

The clatter of clutter
gives way to the hum of living,
and its clear alignment
shows itself to be
all that was ever here.
When you know what's true,
you see and feel it.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2022

The just shall live by faith "

 

This morning quest
has me once again
seeking the well of hope,
learning what I hope for

Sipping the substance,
tasting the flavor -
my hope for truth, my desire
for life and love

I ponder: this indeed
must be the substance of my being,
this spark, this longing,
must hold the definition
of who I am

Must remind me
what I live by,
what I live for,
what will guide me
humble and exultant,
through the many turnings of my day.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2022

Realms

 

In the clear water
the clear fish come into view,
delicate skeletons seen by their flickering,
swift shimmer along the edge of fin -
they drift, they ghost - I can almost
see one through another

Whole networks are made of these -
food chains, symbioses  -
conducting their business mostly unseen -
vast webs of them stretch through oceans
which they now define,
here in my mind
where they swim silent,
widening my realms.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 11, 2022

Surfeit

 

Surfeit of saturation,
more light than we can use,
overflowing brilliance

What in our nature
gains energy taking this in,
translates it into joy?

So much of what we're never told
is right here. Our eyes show us
when we notice. So much of what we are
is right here. Spirit
makes itself known.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 10, 2022

Holy

 

Pre-dawn encounter with holiness
had me walking thoughtful  -
each of these steps,
the realm in which they fall,
the course where I am led -
a wholly different world
from what I thought,
but which has been here all along,
and I've been walking in it
though I didn't know

What changes with this shift?
It is a new land, or more,
it is remembering  -
it's how my feet proclaim
this is their always home -
they find the balance
comforting, empowering,
something the world could never
make them forget how to do.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 9, 2022

The dance of land and sky

 

The belly of cloud
against the contour of the land,
just enough space between to feel the closeness,
the constant slow adjusting of undulations,
a small view into blue distance

The dance of land and sky
goes on throughout the day,
continues through the night
and never pauses
except for the exquisite rests
where all is truly still,
which we, sometimes,
are also blessed to feel.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 8, 2022

Darker

 

The rain reminds us
of our dependencies,
and how small our world can shrink,
and how easily the kingdom of mud
slides on in

We fortify ourselves
with wood and with frugality,
remembering how we honor this darker season -
in the way of its exacting, not our own,
finding our cheer in our plans for more inventions,
and in the bright fire
and the returning green.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2022

Basic

 

Let me fall back
into very basic gratitude  -
gratitude of fingers
for life's movement within,
gratitude of breath
for its participation  -
these things aren't fooled
by high-minded ennui  -
they know in every moment
that life is a gift

From here, my gratitude
can branch out, for there is much to love
in all the people, in all the days -
I can settle back into my purpose
and finding much to praise.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 4, 2022

The devil makes a bid for my evening

 

Where's the tsunami when you need it? -
when you want to give up on everything,
when you want a quiet box to hide in,
when at least, some thought inside you
makes a case for all of that,
says that you're sad,
says you're discouraged,
says you deserve to feel bad
(so go ahead, indulge)
and what you've undertaken
is very, very hard - who wouldn't feel the same in your  condition?

So it insults me, in its wager
that I won't get the insult,
won't notice that by saying this is hard,
it calls me weak, won't notice
these are not my thoughts at all

But I will overcome  -
there is no gain for me in going down,
there is no win in naming myself lost,
there is no reason to listen to these lies -
Enough - I say, begone!

©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2022

In Heavenly Love - a vision

 

In heavenly love

you open out your arms
and all the little animals come running
to dive into your lap, into your aura,
to snuggle there in bliss

Everyone says, let's go up to the mountain,
and so they go, and as they climb,
they are filled up with heavenly love.
When they are full, they turn and sit,
and open out their arms,
and everyone is drawn -
drawn to the light, drawn to the love

When they are full, they also turn
and open out their arms,
and soon the whole mountain
is radiant as a star -
it sends its light out
and pulls everyone in.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 1, 2022