After a long day

All I want to do

is close my eyes

and let the images

that wait around the edges

come rushing in,

shifting and babbling

in their strange gibberish

that will focus into some kind of sense

and tell their fleeting stories

when passing through the filters of my dreams.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 28, 2019

Reflecting on precious times

I collect these moments like stars.

I can hold them in my hand.

Though they may be short blips in time,

they are as infinite

as what they reveal

For sparkling grace is this exactly —

the evidence in one small moment

of one great Truth, 

big enough to guarantee

heart-waking beauty,

tender and wonderstruck alignment

in the unfoldment

of the perfect peace

of now.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 27, 2019

As often as you need it

You were here

when the morning stars sang together,

you were here

at the foundation of the earth

When you know yourself as essence,

as what steps out in wonder

at the gifts of the day,

you can see that years

have never changed you,

and all the twists of circumstance

will always fail to knot you up 

in some unfortunate condition

Your belovedness

is clear as light

and as immutable —

you don’t need to make yourself be anything —

you are here

And I will tell you this

every day, every hour,

as often as you need it,

and if I weren’t here

the day would still tell you the same thing.

The trees, the wind, the bright waves on the water

—they will tell you, and the birds will, too.

Listen, and you will hear.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 25, 2019

A need met

I looked for a way

to fill myself with stillness

like how the water birds

this early morning

bathed themselves in calm,

and I, watching them,

could breathe it in,

that centering

expansive as the whole pond

and all the sky 

and the burnished sun

that rose softly

I needed that later

when the day was muted

and I rode in heaviness

despite the songs

I sang to myself

along the road

It didn’t come right away

but since I asked

and since I waited

and since Life is kind,

by the end of my ride

it came through.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 23, 2019

Blessed are they that mourn …

I will not let thee go, except thou bless me

Before they sing, the little birds

expand to almost twice their size,

taking the morning in,

filling themselves up

with what will be their song

so it expresses

all the joy and glory that they feel

You will be like that,

so deeply filled with what has saved you

that comfort will pour forth like birdsong,

blessing everyone who hears.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 22, 2019

Mourning Song

I have a bag of tears

somewhere in my head,

I feel it jiggle with the bumps along the road,

maybe I’ll take it out

and drink some down,

water my memories

Oh my sweetest love,

I miss you in my future,

I miss your presence, too.

The water comes and takes away my footprints,

something like that sometime may take me, too

I found a feather

amidst my sobs along the sand,

so small and perfect —

I smoothed it with my hand,

and as I always do

I had to take it for a sign

I had to listen for your presence in my mind

“Didn’t I show you?” you said —

I answered, “yes, you did.”

“Then you will take to heart

that light-filled vision.

Your heaviness is like those clumps of snow

disappearing, dense because they’re melting.

“Take that feather

and learn to fly sometime,

get ready

to leave it all behind, 

not that you’re going anywhere,

just being redefined —

that’s how I’ll see you on the other side.”

©Wendy Mulhern

February 21, 2019

For the Defense

I will protest the innocence 

of every burdened soul,

however young or old,

who wakes with dread,

who meets the hours

in sinking sense of debt,

who thinks of years

in washes of regret

Those allegations

never pertained to you,

you children of the light —

you have been ever fueled

by something unindictable.

Your being is comprised

of an essence so radiant

it will shine you 

right out of all the frames

into unspotted day.

©Wendy Mulhern

February 20, 2019