Soaring

If you have flown in a flock

swooping and soaring

in the rolling undulations 

of a collective plane,

turning together

faster than a message,

faster than thought,

Then you know why,

when birds sing,

your heart flies up against your chest

in joy.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 30, 2013

Laundry

Here in these world-crossings

it seems important

(though I swear, it is not!)

that one’s clothes be clean

and free of spot

and so

although I know

for this old dweller in a former time

there is no way to make him notice

make him care

I treat his clothes with stain remover

as a matter of course

so we can be more comfortable

to see him walk

in this disinfected world

that is no longer his.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 29, 2013

Because you can

If you could,

Wouldn’t you use

all the tools you have

to feel love, to feel alive?

Wouldn’t you use music

and dance

and fantasy

and observation, jolted with

surprise,

and wonder,

and the tingling sensation

of remembered touch?

Wouldn’t you let

the padded feet of your affection

lead you down paths

of new connection?

— Hands reaching eager

even if you can’t see?

And if it doesn’t map

on what you’ve called your life,

Won’t you allow

your sights to be lifted?

— Step into the fullness

of everything 

this life, this love, imparts!

©Wendy Mulhern

January 28, 2013

Pontifications

They had been taught to think

the truth was

an observable entity

that stood between them,

and one or another of them

could be more right

about what it was.

They were willing to allow

the actual truth might be subjective —

Her truth and his, mine and yours —

Colors and perspectives altered

by our points of view.

They didn’t know

that truth is not an object at all

but is a chord of harmony

that comes into tune

like a radio wave

and becomes the whole sound

and renders all vision one.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 27, 2013

Depth

Here is permission

To let your body move

Here is permission

To sink

To let your thoughts

sift down and settle into stillness

Here is permission

for the clear pool of yourself

to mirror back

the full depth of the moon.

Yes, you can speak from here

And yes, you can be heard —

There is no shallowness

in the expanse of sky that you reveal.

There is no limit

to what you find you know

There is no limit

to what you heal.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 26, 2013

Parabolic Mirror

If love occurs in micro-moments,

Then it’s occurring

at this moment

as I lie here breathing you

while you are sleeping —

Feeling, in the rise and fall,

the intimacy of breath

and the warm firmness of your form.

If love occurs

in micro-moments of connection,

Consider this:

The whole parabola of my mind —

my memory, my current celebration,

my hope, my dearly felt anticipation —

Will magnify this tiny spark

Displaying beacon lights across the sky.

And this moment

feeds a limpid pool

of many others —

All of them magnified,

All of them bringing light,

Lifting us in the divine,

Teaching us love as they shine.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 25, 2013

A Vision

In the vision

I was mother,

and from my outstretched arms

flowed liquid light.

And many came to drink,

And I was Mother,

Held steady as the conduit 

of love

that those who drank

evoked in me.

Coursing mother-love

circled in a circuit

Filling me with joy,

with joy and fierce protection,

Joy and wonder.

And as I watched

One and another

filled with light.

They rose like stars;

We greeted each other as equals,

And they turned outward,

Conducting light,

Moving to serve it 

as they each were called.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 24, 2013