Accounts

And to the dream, when you arise,

you’re not required to say goodbye . . . 

What of these days

will I take with me?

I see this span of brightnesses,

their traces left in photographs,

the moments we were lucky

to have noticed —

More joy, perhaps, in pauses

than in efforts to do something

to make memories . . . 

Time gets foreshortened,

changes, measured in height and hair,

grow less pronounced,

While timeless qualities, less noticed then,

shine forth

And everything is colored 

in the way I feel right now —

few memories can hold their early hues

What of these days will I take with me

when my arc no longer intersects this sphere?

— Here’s all I know for sure:

The place I am will always be my here.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 7, 2014

Sunday, 5pm

Half moon hides among the clouds

in the surreal brilliance of summer afternoon.

There is a silent moment

between each sound —

too small, perhaps, to hear,

but clear enough

to send a sense of singularity 

throughout this brief time

of the sky’s impossible blue

and the newly cool north breeze

that loves the weeping birch,

who loves the wind in turn.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 6, 2014

Summer Soundings

Summer hums, and squawks and caws —

Birds fledge, bees make their rounds,

Motors of cars and planes and mowers

lend a constant drone,

Cats walk in relative silence

though a jay screams at them, repeatedly,

A neighbor paradiddles on the drums

We work, we sleep, we learn

in our own rhythms,

at least today,

building patterns for when

we can own all this time,

move through all these sounds

at our own pace,

in our own hum.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 5, 2014

photo by Edward Mulhern

Confession

It was easier

not to take

the bold, rushing,

fearsome drop

into the daring darkness

of self betrayal

for the wild ride

of coolness, boyfriends,

the rash pursuit of popularity

It was easier to be innocent

and not to hear the innuendo,

not to brave initiation

to the secret club

of those who left the safety net behind.

It was easier. It wasn’t better.

For years I was mercifully blind

to my lack of understanding of the world,

shielded from seeing 

my comfortable privilege

and my arrogance,

lulled to believing

my inexperience 

could somehow count as virtue

Now I see

Each of us is always 

reaching out for life.

Each thing, we’ve done

because it seemed best at the time.

We were impelled by the same force —

There is no right or wrong of it —

Each of us must cover all the ground

and each of us must be reclaimed

We each will fall,

we each will rise,

We’ll all come home accepted

in each other’s eyes.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 4, 2014

Like Angels

We can be like angels

and touch each other deeply,

like sunset rays illuminate the clouds,

and feel, like angels,

the shimmering transcendency

that lifts us out of any tortured place

We can move like angels

to be where needed instantly

to give the bright embrace 

that fills us up,

and live, like angels

on the nourishment

of blessing as we’re blessed

Yes, we can be like angels,

for this is what was promised us,

and this is what we’re made to do

and this is what we want.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 3, 2014

Gone

The flickers are gone.

Suddenly, yesterday morning,

the nest was quiet, the hole they peeked from,

empty.

We thought a couple times 

we heard them, far away,

the children calling still

to beg for food,

And the adult cries, too,

may well belong to them.

We hoped to see them fledge,

we hoped to watch that triumph,

We hoped to see them hover

close to home.

But they have flown.

We feel the hollow —

Stand-in for our own.

©Wendy Mulhern

July 2, 2014

Interruptions

Any snag

in the loops of dream

can start your liberation

Though the smooth weave

you worked so hard to fashion

is now puckered,

Though gaping holes have opened

in your plans,

Though you feel tripped up, tangled

and abandoned,

Look up, for none of this

is what it seems

This is not the rupture of your good,

This is your revelation.

This is the way out 

from your hard and dull pursuits,

This can begin your transformation

Look through —

There is a deeper order

that doesn’t run at odds

with who you long to be,

There’s an awakening

from toilsome drudgery,

There’s a release,

a time you see

There’s no need to go back and make repairs.

You never need to tend that dream again,

for you are free.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 30, 2014