Strength

Realizing today

(balancing along on a curb,

wind blowing through the city,

clouds clearing)

that strength is in cohesion,

capacity to spread the load

along a span, to share

the impact

Sensitized

in the unity that sends

the darting signal coursing,

wing tip to wing tip, humming

down the bow-taut curves,

every inch in tune,

harmonized, alive

Strength is not in isolation,

not in hardness, not in standing out

amidst a crowd —

It’s in the giving of one’s currents

to the whole, the glad surrender

of one’s atoms

to the grand red rover

of oneness with the team.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 9, 2014

Rome Falling

How does it feel

to be Rome falling?

— This is something

we can now know

Might have the same urgency

as how we cast our hopes

on what we pray will float

free of the massive

crumbling sham

that called itself

our great society

It’s strange how short a time we’ve known,

It’s strange how obvious it seems —

The utter emptiness of

all we’re told to strive for,

The spirit-hunger in our dreams

Rome falls

and there is much it takes with it

in the roaring vacuum it sucks down,

But if we hold each other

and hold what’s true

we will emerge

ready to begin again,

tender, new.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 7, 2014

The Textures of Waiting

We find ourselves

in the many textures of waiting —

the swirling, floating one,

the calm and solid one,

the one in which, within its span,

time stretches endlessly,

the one where weeks nip up

against each other’s heels

We wait for the next action in the sequence,

We wait for our clear focus to return,

We watch for coalescences, events and seasons

to find the perfect moment to jump in

We wait, we move, we wait

and maybe find our steps

lined up with wisdom,

maybe find the ever active peace

maybe find the rhythm and the joy

that marks our presence here,

that sets our place.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 6, 2014

I Start to Learn

I start to learn

to give up my positions,

start to learn to be the stream

flowing in the knowing

that nothing stationary

has any staying power —

nothing static is true

for more than maybe just a moment

And everything delightful

that endures, that excites,

that lends a constant presence to rely upon

is moving in the current,

being life, being dynamic,

defined in interactions and in vectors,

harmonizing forces,

stable in the action of engagement,

relevant because it’s here, alive.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 5, 2014

Life Raft

Wake up. Wake up,

but do it carefully —

for where, within your dream

you thought you were on solid ground,

you’re not. The place we are

is sort of like a life raft,

one that depends on you,

and all of us, to keep the balance.

We need each other,

and if you call someone an enemy,

that image, in your thought,

is like a hole. From which

the air that floats us

can seep out. 

We all need
to keep our minds free
from those leaks. And we need

to learn to move

in concert with each other

so we can guide our craft safely

though the sea may try to swamp us,

hold together through the storm

and reach the shore.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 4, 2014

You Don’t Have to Fail

You don’t have to fail,

though all your efforts

up till now, were subject,

more or less,

to the sands of doubt

which would start slipping

out and out, from what you thought

was your foundation

You don’t have to fail

though you’ve been taught

that winning is illusive,

that others may achieve it

but not you,

or that winning has to be

at someone else’s loss;

this is not true

Though you have thought

success must be a thin veneer

beneath which you’d be haunted

by the same old fear,

there is a quiet power in the peace of here:

the triumph of your being can shine clear

You don’t have to fail.

There is no failure in the web of life,

the skies, the stars —

The same is true

in the unfolding of what you are.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 3, 2014

Colors

I came back high

from riding colors,

swooping like a swallow

down the many currents

of perception

Feeling the excitement,

the waking up inside

of all that saturation,

steeping myself in the burnt sienna

of dried leaves after frost,

cleansing my palate 

in distant sage of afternoon spruce,

intoxicated

with sun-soaked golden green

against a shaded hollow

and enchanting russet of sunset

on bare tree limbs

It was enough

to fill me up,

to satisfy an unacknowledged need

and inundate my moments before sleep

with all those combinations,

infusing me with unexpected joy.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 1, 2014