All the history of our lives together
comes down to this –
we hold the pieces in our hands,
and as we’re ready,
we can place them together,
puzzle out the picture,
observe the linking patterns
It’s not so much the pieces
as the way our hands will touch
while we’re putting them together –
they know each other so well,
and they will remind us.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 22, 2022
I am glad for the light drumming
of rain on the roof, and its gurgle
into the waiting tank,
and the softening and greening of the land
We slide across the equinox
as quickly as a cloud shadow
darkening the valley,
our urgent journey unaffected
by season’s change,
our sense of home
enhanced by it.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 21, 2022
I notice myself garnering
joy from little things –
fire in the evening,
coffee in the morning –
though I have felt the pull
to dedicate myself
to larger causes
And have done so,
and felt the heady hope
and also undercutting deluge
of despair. Shouldn’t this be easy?
– To put my full weight
into what I know is true,
and to be wholly unimpressed
by contradicting lies?
Shouldn’t this be easy?
But when it’s not, I guess
I also am allowed the little joys.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 20, 2022
I will come back,
I will try again to talk to you.
I will pick up the flattened hope
that didn’t hold
against your first responses
I will reconfigure my platform.
No. Forget the platform. What I need here
is my center. That and yours, so my words
don’t wobble off, so our communication
doesn’t collapse. So my perception of you
is not distorted, and my perception of me
is not inflated,
and I have no preconceptions at all
but am ready to learn.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 19, 2022
Before any attempt
to show you anything,
let me be sure you can feel
that deep settled home,
that gravity
that balances you
with the core of the earth
And before I assess
where you stand about anything,
let me be sure that you feel
that bright buoyancy
that sends you up skyward,
home in the growing,
boundless and clear,
from the center of all that you are.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2022
And as for the fatherless,
and the children of lesser fathers,
trailing their tails of shame,
trying to build up a fortress to hide
what they came here missing
Look how they change
when they pass through the portal of Truth,
for no one has been lesser
in the grand configuration of our collective being,
and no one has been missing,
and no one has been lost,
and no imposters hid from us
the spotless heritage our Father gives us.
We all walk royal here.
We each bestow upon each other
honor and delight.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 15, 2022
My gratitude multiplies fractally
as I consider
all that goes into each aspect –
the sounds, the words, the alphabet,
the means to write, the way that reading
throws an image straight into my thought,
full color, full nuance, full flavor,
so I can swoop along, in someone else’s
created world, without even noticing
the surface that invoked the pool
that I dove into,
and the geologic layers of technology
that make it effortless.
Most of the time
I give it no thought at all. Right now,
I am in awe.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 14, 2022
In this time, to my mind, I summon
a truth more comprehensive
than the little cause effect chains I’ve constructed
I need something
to rise above the sadness my conclusions would evoke,
some vision that won’t run aground
from shallowness of hope
I summon
the very substance from which arise
our most profound desires,
the substance that entails their sure fulfillment,
I summon
that which knows us all so well,
and which we know,
to make the circle round, restore it whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 12, 2022
Thinking that I’m so smart
(however justified the evidence appears)
has never gained me anything but pain
Please let me never
do that again –
I’m so sorry
for the stupidity it led me to,
blind as a slab, such broad miscalculations
in the shadow of my ego
Let me rather
attend to the brightness
of everyone else. Let my brilliance be comprised
of seeing them aright
and thus supporting
the dawn of shared enlightenment,
with each of us
contributing our own essential rays.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 11, 2022
Maybe it’s not important,
the roll of days, the roll of years –
we are not stuck on them –
our lives move forward in the stride of Spirit,
our gains swift rides of capturing the wind,
and revelations, slow unfurling as a sprout,
coming present like the dew
in the dip of late night’s coldness,
suddenly apparent when the morning light
finds it on the grass.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 10, 2022