Harmonic

The sand won’t fail to ripple

in the pattern of the light,

in the pattern of the waves,

in the pattern of the wind and tides

The harmony of light and shadow,

ebb and flow, advance, receding,

holds each grain of sand

here where your toes, delighted,

find them

So it is with what we call our lives —

nothing puts it into place,

nothing holds it there

except the truth that permeates our days,

harmonic waves of blessed, light-touched life.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 30, 2018

Just Saying

I’m not saying anything

about the quality of the box.

It’s a lovely box, and I can see

how it has given sense to your life,

a frame from which to view,

with which to order

all the currents streaming through your mind

I’m not saying anything

about the quality of the cage.

Certainly it’s a fine cage,

gilded and artful. It sets off your plumage,

provides a visual counterpoint

to your graceful lines

I’m just saying

something inside is making me

want to walk away. I don’t want

to try those containers out,

at least not now.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 29, 2018

Presence

Let me wake up to presence

and feel the substance of it,

how it fills up everything —

time and space and consciousness

Let me feel how presence

is both mine and its own,

how it speaks to me,

how I embody it

See? I can’t be absent

any more than presence can be gone,

and I can’t fail to dwell in presence,

the all, the law, of here.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 28, 2018

Welcome Home

You can go ahead

and set those worries right down

in the hall. You don’t need

to carry them upstairs

Come in, relax — every part of you

is welcome. We will thoroughly enjoy

all that you are

Even Awkward, that funny half-relative,

can feel at home here.

We don’t take him too seriously,

which comes as a relief to him.

I saw him settling in, with new ease,

leaning in to the surrounding laughter

We’re glad you found us. Whether you traveled

five hours in a sleigh, or six in an airplane,

or ten minutes across the bumpy winter grass,

your coming makes our circle rounder —

your presence is desired.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 27, 2018

Each other from afar

No need to stand on pretense

for we both have sat

in the shadow of death,

we have both been changed

And whatever we professed

before that 

is irrelevant —

we are in a different place

Our eyes now —

they don’t avert as quickly,

we take the deep time

to let things soak in,

to let the colors darken

in the wetness,

the saturation gather at the edge

No need to hold each other

to what we said and thought

in former times. Those times are gone.

We have today.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 26, 2018

The Morning’s Gold

We were there to harvest

the gold of the day,

exhilaration

when sun has overcome

the last night’s rain

Damp leaves quivered

with surface evaporation,

breath-catch of being here,

the moment’s radiant warmth

Later the clouds came across

and maybe there was more rain

(later we were inside, where noticing

is not strictly required).

In memory, and in the camera’s capture,

the morning’s gold will stay.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 24, 2018

Thought for the day

And the vision was flying beside me

like the flock of birds suddenly

at my shoulder, as we walked

near the shore

It touched on

layers of worlds

and how a shift in focus

can operate on each one —

the world of sound,

the world of light in a father’s eyes,

the nexuses of casual intersection

And it said:

All your longings will flow out

of all containers where you try to hold them,

they will turn from light to lead along the street,

but the brightness you desire

is yours, now and always —

it sits, in willing ease,

upon your brow.

©Wendy Mulhern

November 23, 2018