Childlike

 

Teach me to be
the child I never was -
open-minded, free,
eager to receive
whatever gift is offered
in another's face

Teach me to be the child I am,
whom I have been since before the world began,
eager to give what is given to me
of the light that delights
and enlightens us all.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 9, 2022

Maybe it's the rain

 

Sometimes I want to cry
for no reason,
sometimes music that sounds like coming home
will bring the tears -
I don't know why, a kind of longing, maybe

Sometimes I want to slide back
into a beloved book,  one I've read
more than once. Just let
all the important problems
I seek so earnestly to solve
wait until morning,
until a festival of dreams
has washed my mind clean
and I'm ready to start again.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 8, 2022

Unraveling

 

Things unravel
that were never fiber,
that turn out not to have
even the substance of thread
or the chain of a story

They dissolve like dreams in the morning,
and my footing, too, must realign itself
to day's dimensions, to gravity's
orientation

Every unraveling is a reveal -
that which is there after it's gone
will teach us substance.
Our being there after it's gone
shows us our place.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 6, 2022

Lakes of kindness

 

I can remember lakes of kindness

and jumping into them,
and the light that powers smiles
soaking in, and filling up, flooding me
with an abiding wellbeing

Some I could return to often,
some were more like puddles
but were enough to light me up

There were dry patches, too.
I could go for long times in between ablutions,
sustaining as they were,
and because I still could access them in memory

But the richest thing is when
I can create a lake for others -
when I do that, I never lack.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 5, 2022

Lullaby for early May

 

Hold me in the hollow
of the waxing crescent moon,
in the halo of the memory of day,
let me cruise as softly
toward the dark horizon's hills,
soothed in my sweet hammock's gentle sway

Stars have been infrequent
in this recent time of year  -
rain has owned the music of the night,
but frogs will sing for rain or stars,
and I -
I'll take in either with delight.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 3, 2022

Smoke

 

We are not made of smoke,
and so the sweeping winds,
fast shifting and insistent,
don't disperse us

And those who wield the fans that push opinions
can't corral us into predesigned reactions,
however much they blow on us,
however much it seems as if they can

We're made of truth.
So whatever winds blow through,
they can't disturb us -
can't rearrange our shape,
can't realign us

And this is true of everyone,
and so we stand,
when all the smoke has cleared,
exactly where we are.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 2, 2022

Calming

 

My mind can yaw like a boat -
a slight suggestion
can set up magnifying waves -
my efforts to correct them
just makes it worse  -
sets things rocking even more

My thought can drop like a rock
below the surface
where the waves don't reach,
I can take refuge
beneath the words and the reactions
in the silent depths
where everything is still

There is an underlying law,
there is a calming,
though on my own I couldn't steady
what has been riled up -
I can perceive it
as hope, as homing,
that stills the sea and sets all things to right.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 1, 2022