Release

I thought my struggle

was to become capable,

to learn and do, do and learn

until, from rough edges

a fine form emerges

and I do the needed thing

with grace

But perhaps my struggle

is to silence all the loops of thought

that cast me as unable

and all I need to do

is leave those loops

to step out knowing

I have always done those things

and done them well

Perhaps my struggle

is the smooth release

from all that said I couldn’t,

exchanging calculation

for faith.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 11, 2016

Spring’s Truth

Nothing is mundane

when the fragrance of blossoms

blesses every breath

and blackbirds and robins

sing its praise

Nothing is mundane

when the inner greening

continues tender

and rapt attention

finds its place

All the dead blackberry stalks

have become brittle,

and though they still may snag,

they can be snapped away,

they can be left behind,

space can be made

for what is soft and fresh and sweet,

we can be defined

by where we are alive.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 10, 2016

This Rhythm

Cherry blossom petals flutter, settle,

small insects — flitting sun specks —

oscillate between the shadows,

chickadees are house-hunting

Green leaves everywhere

present reflecting tops, 

translucent undersides,

trembling in the light breeze

and the transfixing pleasure

of illumination

Robins have been singing

since early morning.

Clearly, this is the rhythm

in which life must unfold,

this is the model

for us to follow.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 9, 2016

Madrugada

Birds sing with the freshness

of air that has been warmed

by the sun, cooled in the night,

and awaits the cusp of morning,

the floating moment

where warm and cool

rest in perfect balance

and the most delicate fragrances

reach full volatility

Gratitude is the elixir

which gives rise to joy,

huge flocks of it

turning as one

filling up the whole day.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 8, 2016

A Summons

Oh, peace,

send your flourish

down all my fractal curls,

let me hum

with the vibrancy of unfurling,

each part in its most deeply welcomed

way, each a marvel,

the “aha” of this moment,

in the soothing ease

of belonging, exactly,

in this here, in this tapestry

where every color

nestles in around us

to uphold, define, and complement

our shape, our hue, our time.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 6, 2016

Landing

We are each in this place

where life’s currents

(so it would seem)

have set us,

much like these hills

dropped by floods

so many times

so long ago

The seeds within our banks

wake up and start their processes,

roots seek into soil, scout into places

where water collects under pebbles,

where threads of mycelium 

extend their welcome,

shoots lift their heads

as if nothing else had ever happened,

as if no cataclysm

had rent the land,

as if, indeed,

this opportunity to live

had been expressly prepared for them,

this dew, this sun,

this whole community,

this hour, this day.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 3, 2016

Settling Down

There are processes

of settling down,

ways the jostled clutter finds

to re-collect, 

regroup as like with like,

become contiguous,

ways the pieces

find their way 

back to peace.

These I summon

at the end of this fractured day,

before the dream drift starts

(a way to smooth it in

and make it pleasant):

breath like tides

to comb the tangled webs,

deep drafts to let the scattered thoughts

find the restfulness

of their weight.

An end to the to do list,

a pause. Just listening . . . 

©Wendy Mulhern

April 1, 2016