Surfeit of saturation,
more light than we can use,
overflowing brilliance
What in our nature
gains energy taking this in,
translates it into joy?
So much of what we’re never told
is right here. Our eyes show us
when we notice. So much of what we are
is right here. Spirit
makes itself known.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 10, 2022
Pre-dawn encounter with holiness
had me walking thoughtful –
each of these steps,
the realm in which they fall,
the course where I am led –
a wholly different world
from what I thought,
but which has been here all along,
and I’ve been walking in it
though I didn’t know
What changes with this shift?
It is a new land, or more,
it is remembering –
it’s how my feet proclaim
this is their always home –
they find the balance
comforting, empowering,
something the world could never
make them forget how to do.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 9, 2022
The belly of cloud
against the contour of the land,
just enough space between to feel the closeness,
the constant slow adjusting of undulations,
a small view into blue distance
The dance of land and sky
goes on throughout the day,
continues through the night
and never pauses
except for the exquisite rests
where all is truly still,
which we, sometimes,
are also blessed to feel.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 8, 2022
The rain reminds us
of our dependencies,
and how small our world can shrink,
and how easily the kingdom of mud
slides on in
We fortify ourselves
with wood and with frugality,
remembering how we honor this darker season –
in the way of its exacting, not our own,
finding our cheer in our plans for more inventions,
and in the bright fire
and the returning green.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2022
Let me fall back
into very basic gratitude –
gratitude of fingers
for life’s movement within,
gratitude of breath
for its participation –
these things aren’t fooled
by high-minded ennui –
they know in every moment
that life is a gift
From here, my gratitude
can branch out, for there is much to love
in all the people, in all the days –
I can settle back into my purpose
and finding much to praise.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 4, 2022
Where’s the tsunami when you need it? –
when you want to give up on everything,
when you want a quiet box to hide in,
when at least, some thought inside you
makes a case for all of that,
says that you’re sad,
says you’re discouraged,
says you deserve to feel bad
(so go ahead, indulge)
and what you’ve undertaken
is very, very hard – who wouldn’t feel the same in your condition?
So it insults me, in its wager
that I won’t get the insult,
won’t notice that by saying this is hard,
it calls me weak, won’t notice
these are not my thoughts at all
But I will overcome –
there is no gain for me in going down,
there is no win in naming myself lost,
there is no reason to listen to these lies –
Enough – I say, begone!
©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2022
In heavenly love
you open out your arms
and all the little animals come running
to dive into your lap, into your aura,
to snuggle there in bliss
Everyone says, let’s go up to the mountain,
and so they go, and as they climb,
they are filled up with heavenly love.
When they are full, they turn and sit,
and open out their arms,
and everyone is drawn –
drawn to the light, drawn to the love
When they are full, they also turn
and open out their arms,
and soon the whole mountain
is radiant as a star –
it sends its light out
and pulls everyone in.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 1, 2022
My tears keep trying
to dissolve the contours
leading to the sad stories –
deep and innocent desires
and how they’re dashed
by nothing but the surge of seas
of crossed intentions, missed perceptions,
and the desperate reaching
for glinting lights
within the tips and furrows of the waves
My tears keep trying
to settle all this out,
not just for me, but for every one of us,
everyone whose story makes me cry.
We are all striving for the same thing –
we just don’t know it –
my tears are trying
to make it clear.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 31, 2022
It could be fall.
What could befall?
I will not allow
the course of my life
to be turned
And yet land falls beneath me,
a sinkhole, a swallowing,
the sudden downward shift –
how to maintain footing?
And where can I land?
An image has been forming,
appearing, as out from fog,
solid, but only sometimes seen –
a citadel, a rock to stand on,
a place that will not shift,
that will stay with me,
whatever changes ripple through,
whatever seems to disappear
I will learn to feel it
under my feet,
I’ll learn to find it,
and I’ll stay here.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 29, 2022
Well, I’d rather tell of light that reaches through
than poignantly delineate depression
(sustain of all my strings
muted to a dull gray “thub”)
A light that reaches, rather than piercing,
a lifting off of fog, frequent as dawn
And in the same way as I can’t
make it light outside before the morning,
I can be patient now
and wait the coming day.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 28, 2022