Falling to yes

There are so many yeses in this world

A yes to each cascading course of water’s fall

A yes to leaves surrendering to soil

A yes to seeds that nestle in for winter

to live the chill that later triggers them

to rise up with the upswing of the seasons

A yes to eyes that meet and know relationship

A yes to recognition of a kindred soul

A yes to dance

A yes to touch

Yes to the silent, smooth synchronization

Yes to your breath, yes to your voice

Yes to your fingers’ call

In a response that transcends choice

My body

says yes

to it all.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 30, 2012

Freshman

It is not fathomable 

to imagine you gone

though we see you little enough

in the small crossings of orbits

when we are all awake

and all here

and not sequestered

in our respective caves

When I think of you

out on your own

I wonder about your laundry

and your innocence

I want to wrap you in a cloak

that’s been too small for several years

Protect you

from a world I’m sure you think 

you know much more about than I do

I want you to soar free and far

I want your mask of self-assurance

to be filled out, from within

with trial-tested confidence

I don’t want the world to prove you wrong

I want the world to prove you strong

It’s not fathomable

to imagine you gone

So I will think of you

Somewhere, next year

Exploring some as yet uncharted here.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 29, 2012

If everything is made of thought

If everything is made of thought

Then there are no separate things

No rolly, clunky, cluttery things

No inscrutable, intractable things

Nothing to fall out of place

Nothing to fail to move

If everything is made of thought

Then there is no past, no gaping track

where things tore through the fabric

of our hopes and plans

leaving shreds along the course of time

No regrets and no alarm

No irreparable harm

If everything is made of thought

Then all these things

we think are non-negotiable —

the way things are, the way they have to be —

can really change, in any instant

Blink of an eye, awakening from dream.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 28, 2012

Application Deadlines

Actually,

You can’t make things be

what they’re not

You can’t make a stream

run faster down its course

rapid or languid as the fall line designates

You can’t make the clouds

configure themselves

into neat, ordered little puffs

And we can’t make our son

hop to, conform, align

when all his atoms stretch

along some still-unmarked direction

as he charts the constellations

of his singular universe

Obligatorily,

there will be hoops to jump through

See how he bends his lanky form

to condescending depths

and somehow manages to find some grace

complying with the needed tasks

Some things fall behind

and yet we can be sure

Everything that’s really part of him

will find a way to flourish,

to endure.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 27, 2012

Tonight’s gift

Translucent clouds blown from the north

across the face of the three-quarter moon

who sees them

bathes them in benevolence

as they pass before her face

making the sky milk-marbled

till they dissipate

revealing a single star.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 25, 2012

Jacob’s Ladder

(Notes from the fifth seasonal five women gathering)

We fold and unfold and refold

Constant surprises of new faces

appearing and then hidden

reemerging later somewhere else

We see each other

We see ourselves

Faces that we recognize from now, 

and, too, from other times

We mirror, and are mirrored

And in the grand revealing of our paths —

our being, spread across a stretch of time —

Great gardens spring to life, to light

their fragrant blossoms sweetening the air

We are a circle

A circle of love and caring

A circle of women

Holding the safe net

we all jump into

Feeling the tug at the sides

as we hold each other up

Feeling our cords strengthen

in the stretch of the give and take

Feeling the ties of our intersections

hugging us close

We are angels

Ascending and descending

Bringing ourselves messages

and the dear assurance

that this land, this place

has been prepared for us

and we will inhabit it

and bring forth our fruits.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 24, 2012

Mending

Retreated here from all activities

So many proffered offerings

roll by like water

The waves of doing things —

Fun and togetherness —

(photos as proof)

thunder over my head

and are gone

There’s hardly even

space for regret

deep, as I am

under the turbulence

where it is still

and I am still waiting 

for the internal calm.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 23, 2012