With my heart I follow
the blades of grass
down to their still points –
each one has a center,
each is individual,
so none become displaced,
though waves of wind sweep over,
bending them silver red green gold
in turn, though they bow in sequence,
then spring back –
each one has its anchor in the ground,
each its source of nutrient,
each its place in the land
to rise up into everything it is
and shimmer the collective dance.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 23, 2022
The small voice
didn’t say this to me, because
the still small voice
is only at the center –
speaks to the center, from the center,
of the center
Words that speak of the approach
are not of the center –
they can’t wield the necessary stillness,
can’t make clear
the one most needed thing
the still small voice can tell me:
the center is here.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 22, 2022
I have been severe with myself
(though maybe not as much as I deserve)
I have needed this reckoning
to see the many ways I’ve come up short
But then I keep on finding this release
that cancels out the penalty
with a surfeit of fine grained joys,
appreciation at the smallest scale,
a permeating of respect
that grants to everything
its time and place,
and in this governance
there is forgiveness
for me and everyone who’s lost the way.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 21, 2022
Today I notice
the thoughts I awoke with
each found their way
to some kind of fruition,
kindness being relevant,
and not worrying,
and focusing all tutelage
toward my own heart,
me being the one
who has this day to learn from,
needing all the grace
that’s offered me today.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 20, 2022
I will not entertain
plans to bump down
an unforeseen hill, to land
in whatever lump the landscape leaves me
Lots of stories say we’re born to die,
but I don’t know if anyone
really believes that
It may tug and tag along,
an unacknowledged fear,
it may get an honored place
in one’s belief system
Bit I will not let go
of the darting silver sense
of living in a deeper liberty,
and every day I live,
I’ll strive to rise
to where we know
we’re never born
and never die.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 18, 2022
… was stepping through long grass and clover,
failing to keep my socks dry,
till the rapid curve of the hill,
where I tossed each biscuit
on its short and tumbling arc
while late sun graced daisies and seed heads
in moments when cloud veils lifted,
and the house on its perch on the hill
exuded welcome.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 17, 2022
Today has been graceful,
its revelations gentle,
its tasks supportive of the higher learning
to which I’m called
I’m called to bring my efforts to the altar
and leave them there, for after all,
what use are they to me,
except I offer them?
And what can I receive
but what was made to fit me
by that same all good
with which I leave my gifts?
©Wendy Mulhern
June 16, 2022
Try to remember
when the demons howl at you
that you have the right
to remain silent. You are not required
to defend yourself, to be drawn in
to their nets of intimation
Try to remember
that we are here for you,
and we can vouch for your innocence,
we can vouch for your worth
And even though you may succumb
to many tears at their taunts, you will find
that the truth about you
lets you leave them in the dust
as soon as you remember.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 15, 2022
I like it when you go out
and look at things and think
I like when you stride
in your boots with your scythe
and slice the grass down
I like you on the land,
for the two of you
bring out the life in each other
Plans calm, and the breath of the moment
knits you to each other –
you rise and rest
in each other’s care.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 13, 2022
You are surrounded
by the knowing
of what you are,
the comfort of the truth
you are comprised of
You can relax
and let it hold you up,
be still, and let it sink
all the way in
This may take some time –
that’s fine. It can and will
reach to every tiny network
of your being, seep and saturate,
feed, regenerate,
transform what you know yourself to be,
heal your wounds and set your spirit free.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 11, 2022
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