To weather these times,
we ride on what we know will fly -
music, or touch, or high fantasy -
we find what takes us high
to keep our heads above the rising mire
Whether these times
encompass the swift end of all we knew,
or herald the bright dawn
of what we know must come,
we'll need the touchstones
of everything we love
to bear us through them,
to bring us home.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 31, 2023
I.
We talk about the failure of words,
but maybe it's not exactly that -
a thing of timing, more, or cadence,
and how the images,
though not strange,
rest in a different context,
whose description
would take a lot of words
and tax our listeners
We may have finer sensors than we know,
with which we measure
the time we have to speak -
space of attention
in which our words must fit,
or else the bubble will disperse,
letting our words fall
and our connection with it.
II.
And then again, there is an art
to listening, without intent
to offer any words, unless
they perfectly tuck in
to the place of need
that has been shared,
which they will do
if we have rightly heard
the space prepared.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 30, 2023
Outside, in the bright sun and cold wind,
the maple limbs stretch red against the sky.
The aspens reach eager and graceful
in their sea green tint.
Small flocks of birds come through,
and I'm glad these trees
give them comfort on their journey,
and maybe encourage them
to stay awhile.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 29, 2023
We welcome what sweeps through us
and makes us new,
we welcome sun, we welcome rain,
we welcome stars that show up briefly
at five a.m., and clouds the hills snag,
while they're blowing through
We call it life
for being so much more than we can fathom,
we call it love for how it makes us
glad we're here.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 28, 2023
Something that does not exist
cannot be shattered
High horse of my positions,
brittle presuppositions,
self justified opinions
don't need to fall in shards about my feet
Look at this tender dissolution,
silent, swift dispersal
of all of those illusions -
the sure fulfillment
of the law of presence
which holds me ever safe
here in my truth.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 26, 2023
In moments I fathom
having never touched down
into bone, into skull,
into what can be alone -
having never come to think
that I could be destroyed
or even lost - sitting present
in the sweet company
of consciousness itself,
which by its nature
is comprised of knowing,
and knows the feather movements
and the grand turnings -
rivers of awareness,
oceans of connection -
this being what is me,
this being what is us -
galaxies of bright communication,
universe of intermingled song.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 25, 2023
This will not be lost
(phrases snatched
like images from dreams,
nothing predetermined
nor tallied, after the fact)
This doesn't need to be a riddle -
it can be the sweet way you find yourself
after a full day - weathered,
suffused with heat,
dry after the day's cold wind,
feeling the strong contrast of the indoors,
thin but solid shell against the roving night
You find yourself within,
at peace, clean, ready for sleep,
willing to let fears and worries go,
learning to trust what holds you safe.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 23, 2023
