What is it all made of? –
these thoughts, these colors,
this shimmer of wind-touched trees and water,
these family ties,
presence of others I feel,
like air through my fingers while riding no-handed
after they’ve gone –
a latch remains open
and a door swings somewhere in my mind.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 28, 2022
When things close in around you,
you may begin to learn
it only takes a tiny space
to establish the kingdom within,
which, once founded,
expands to be your whole world,
with you sovereign
and all the paths that open out around you
yours to inhabit.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 27, 2022
The webs that lurk beneath the surface
can’t tangle me, can’t tangle you –
our inner impulse must emerge
in full expression, pure and true
These lies we’ve spent our time in,
these nets wherein we’ve thrashed,
these tracks we’ve been defined in
can’t last
They’re all the same for all of us,
and when we stand still long enough,
deprive them of our energy, they fall,
and then we rise.
We fill the rhythm of ourselves,
we leave them well behind –
they never have been part of us at all.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 25, 2022
Caught between puddles and spray,
we squirt through anyway,
this being the last leg
of a circuit that started
with a light spritzing from wet road surfaces,
then a soft sprinkle from the sky,
till we were fully inaugurated
by a deep puddle spanning the trail.
So now, wet and sandy enough not to mind,
we coast to the end
and learn of the big sheets of rain we missed
but wouldn’t have minded either.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 23, 2022
Tears are like pools I can throw myself into –
sometimes I give myself a push,
sometimes I choose not to.
They can be cleansing or also just messy.
Most times I can shake myself off
and be fine – the moment passes,
a clearer outlook returns
I’ve never been a person
who almost never cries,
and at some times the water table
is quite close to the surface.
I don’t mind, really. Most of the time
I treat them like weather –
let them blow through and be done.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 22, 2022
The cushion of family,
soft as morning fog,
hugs everyone
Smiles are harvested easily
for what they feed us,
and life is celebrated,
not just by us
but by everything touched
in these moments of being,
this connectivity that holds us all.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 21, 2022
The day’s heat radiates
out from my skin,
now after sunset
when the pink light
has given way to some color
without a name,
I am content
but too tired for thought –
time to ride on the soft processes,
sink into the wordless swing,
stretch into languid depths –
regeneration.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 19, 2022
I feel fine.
The lines of my mind
are smooth – no ruffles
of family dramas
I have been playful,
I have been thoughtful,
I’ve laughed, and talked maybe
a bit too much, but with no painful consequence.
I’ve been misty, but only a little,
and not when anyone saw
Turning the light on inside
has changed the outside color
from blue to black.
Crickets and a cool breeze
preside over nightfall.
Seems like wherever I am
is where I belong, for now.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 18, 2022
Night shortened by an eastbound flight,
sun comes out in Boston,
more time to wait
Little birds live in airports,
so it seems, and others hop around outside –
strange habitat, overarching concrete
and some landscape trees
As for me, I’ve watched and smiled,
listened, slept, written, cried,
and, not having traveled in some years,
am doing fine
Who knows about this thing called life?
Who knows? Or time, for that matter –
our purpose flows somewhere deeper
than the place these tokens mark,
still rich and powerful
to pull us swift along.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 17, 2022
The pool of regrets
is a deep one. You can be washed
in many colors of sorrow.
You can feel your whole past
roll over you like a wave,
pulling all linearity out of time
Even if you don’t wallow,
don’t steep yourself in story,
it will color your view. It’s OK –
refracting light waves
bring depth and beauty to your days,
and to your character.
You will be prism and pool
to those who find you.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 15, 2022