Attraction to vastness,
a wide open yearning,
adventure to span
a lifetime or more
Attention to tinyness -
however close you look,
something of wonder
is opening up
Something you know
in your toes, in your soul,
something so integral, intimate,
all that you are is exactly enough to give,
all that you give
brings you home.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 20, 2022
It wasn't enough to know
my chains were self imposed,
as I fumbled through the keys and locks,
ever more heavy
The sweet release revealed
I have no power to impose chains.
The Principle to which my being moves,
of which I am the proof,
does not allow such folly
What freedom to admit
I am not my own!
What a relief to know
the One whose I am
is kind.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 19, 2022
Still have nothing to say
despite the lushness
of mist-cloaked May,
and the blackbirds yesterday,
vociferous in evening sun
I've been treating my mind like a library
of books already read,
feeling no urge
to look at them again
Perhaps more fruitfully
my mind can act as blackbird,
evening sun calm
along my wings.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 18, 2022
Stuff I'm not talking about
piles up, squashing my nimbleness
of speech, of thought
Things I say over top of it
lack the connection to underlying structure,
can't indicate the muscle, bone, and sinew
They slope off like fluff -
they don't hold my interest,
I can't write them down
And the stuff I'm not talking about
hulks in its darkness -
seems like I'll need more than words
to pull it out.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 15, 2022
You talk about healing.
I want you to know
that I will not accept as healing
that which insists that I stuff my rage,
be polite about my pain,
and sets me on a postage stamp of
"seeing the good,"
a narrow strip of positive
To be whole, I need a truth so large
it swallows my complaint,
wraps up everything I am
in its embrace,
silences my howling
in the full-home chord
of welcome,
has space enough for all of me to soar.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 13, 2022
For however short a time,
one strain of internal chatter
has been hushed,
and in the stillness,
the music speaks to me
with more nuance than ever
as I let myself receive
the full gift of its offering
with no commentary as to how I,
if circumstances had allowed,
might have measured up.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 12, 2022
Work in the sun has dissipated
my ableness to put two words together,
but light drenched images remain,
and it was fine to watch the colors change -
waves of richness as the sun went down
so late I. The evening - too late for me
for anything but watching
and drifting off, and tottering to bed.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 10, 2022
