Winter for the Seeds

The little seeds are nestled

in a sphere of fluff

which can be pulled apart.

The fluff, though soft,

begins to burr into my fingers

as I rub the seeds free

The posts say I need to 

make winter for the seeds,

need to keep them cold and damp

until they calculate

winter is done — now, if it gets warm

it’s safe to sprout

They describe it in terms of hormones

but I tuck the seeds in, I talk to them.

Who am I to say what kind of wisdom

has not been passed down,

mother to many future children,

grand dappled limbs

coursing the message of life,

roots to crown, earth to atmosphere,

the record of many winters

to inform this one that will now come for the seeds,

packed and labeled in my refrigerator.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 14, 2016

photo by Edward Mulhern

Spirit Rising

And when the day’s duties

conspire to exclude

the deep reflective pauses,

Spirit still seeps through

In the cooking, in the caring for an elder,

in the ready presence to consult, to listen,

through the low winter light

through clouds, through windows,

and the quick arc of a short day

with its long darknesses at the edges

Spirit seeps into consciousness

like tide rising

because it belongs there

and can’t be left out.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 12, 2016

Redemption

I want to tell about the way I feel,

I want to tell about how quickly

the circle of peace spread through me,

how warm and safe I felt,

how the glow reached in powerfully

to light up all the places in my past

that had been sorry,

to make them right, to fill them up with joy

I didn’t know till then that my redemption

could reach in that far,

but now I see

it had to cover everything,

had to halo everyone,

for no one can remain outside

the all-embracing Truth in which we live.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 11, 2016

I Woke Up Grateful

I woke up grateful

because good is the only power

and in my struggle

against all that is evil,

I don’t need to take

a mean-spirited stance,

don’t need to commune

with comeuppance

or deal in retaliation,

don’t need disgust

or even indignation

I woke up grateful

that the best I can do

is to fill my soul with

the presence of goodness.

When fighting hate with love,

love is what counts

Love effortlessly deconstructs

the structures of oppression,

love casts no one as villain

but liberates us all

from the mazes of pain

I woke up grateful

that the work of my day

is so joyful, so boundless —

to let Love lead me,

to eagerly follow.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 10, 2016

Lessons

These things are revealed to me

day by day:

the freedom that is possible,

and, too, the webs that trap us

and trick us into actions we don’t want

None of us desire to oppress each other,

none of us desire to offend,

none of us desire to be stupid or obtuse,

each of us would rather be a friend

We feel the need to clamor to be heard,

we feel the need to strike back when we’re slighted,

we feel the need to see the balance tip toward justice,

we wonder how the others

can be so benighted

Such thoughts don’t free me, though.

Nor will any resolution I can make.

Let me attune to everyone’s desire

to be free to love. Let my life

show them that they are.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 9, 2016

Our Ride

The key perception

is knowing what we ride on,

what holds the rolling forces

through which we move,

what keeps us full and vital

and in play

Then we’ll know it’s not dependent

on anything except the one infinity,

and how we’re held in sweet divinity,

wedded to the brightness of our days

And we won’t be frightened

by threats that we might lose

our source of comfort and protection,

or that the place where we belong

could fall away

For then we’ll stand up strong

against whatever may claim power,

ride steady and exhilarated

through the fray,

showing by our lives

the nature of our strength,

showing with our love

the winning way.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 17, 2016

How We Win

You never were

that lost and lonely soul

that fought back, kicking,

that raged and spat

You never were

that desperate, huddled one

that squeezed, eyes shut,

against a tiny crack,

too small to justify,

to big to hide

You’ve always been beloved,

you never needed to atone,

and all the demons

that wrought all kinds of havoc

in your name

must shrivel, powerless

before the truth that you can claim

This is how we win —

soul by soul, to patiently restore.

This is the beginning

to which we now return —

so let it stand,

so let us soar.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 6, 2016