Daily Steps

Today, once more,

a couple steps

to round up and evict

the voices of complaint

Outside a fine mist

has muted the sky

but not the ruling green

which flourishes

everywhere it’s been allowed

And inside, laundry

is not as massive as it was,

and though the same blocks

hulk up against my progress,

I have some newer tools.

There’s a way to trickle forward

and there’s room, right here,

for praise.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 13, 2017

Letting Him Go

We first relax

and then begin

to take our tentacles out

of your father’s life

We called them love

but they were something else.

We felt our love required them

but (on further thought)

our meddling 
does not improve his life

We take out the tentacles

so he can die if he wants,

and if what he wants to do

is ride the currents

of his own volition

wherever they may take him, well

This is what we also had to do

to free our children. So now

you’re treating him like an adult,

my daughter said. Letting him decide

what he wants to do

Oh yes. To learn again:

Love is not exerting

what we think is best for them —

love holds on

while also letting go.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 12, 2017

Thinking it Through

After a while

we started to think we wanted

that one bright slice of day

we couldn’t have

We began to tire

of building our time around it

though it was quite reasonable —

Who, after all, is free

of all obligations?

And even if we were free,

the same discontent

that dogs us now

would nibble around our edges

in some other way

and try to take

this same kind of chomp

out of our satisfaction.

So no. Regroup and reconsider.

The victory, the release,

will not be from demanded time,

but from the sense of deprivation.

We can always have enough.

We are always given

just what we need.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 10, 2017

Mosaic

Stand at the right place

and the fractured colors

form a mosaic,

and bits of meaning

from other contexts

take on new roles,

defining something else

Love the pieces —

the memories, the skills,

the hard-earned softness,

and love the new creation —

all these parts of life from other times

joined to form the compass rose of now.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 10, 2017

Not Too Late

It’s not too late

to feel blessed,

though eyes be turned toward sleep,

though goals be given up on,

though consciousness

has wandered off

into various fields

where grasses

are going to seed

and small flowers

hold court with many 

peculiar bugs

It’s not too late to be blessed —

look — you’re there already

in the sweet breath of summer night,

in the dream welcoming call

of warm blankets and chilly wind.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 7, 2017

What Holds Us

Isn’t it obvious

that all this time

we couldn’t have been

holding ourselves up?

(As scientists posit “dark matter”

because there isn’t enough substance

in the known universe

to pull itself together)

(As it is clear

that if we needed to rely

on our paltry interactions

to create love,

we could never do it)

When the mighty rush

of Love, its sheer infinity,

bears us up, carries us along,

powers our swoops,

becomes our song,

then we know what holds us,

what held us all along.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 5, 2017

One Daily Poem Under the Wire

Midnight threatens

to overcome the day —

I can keep working

up to its threshold

but it will be tomorrow then

and what I accomplish

will no longer add to

today’s to dos' ta-dahs

No matter. My life cares little

about calendars these days.

I have to think hard sometimes

about what day it is.

Just me and the rhythms

of someone who’s left time behind

and the progress that scribbles

bright and rushing

outside all the lines.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 4, 2017