Nothing really broke except a taillight.
Though it seemed for a moment
that every path had shattered,
that there was no more sense
and nothing more to follow,
in fact, the way that we could navigate
was still there – we could still take
the needed next steps,
we could come home
with a load of trees
and a replacement part,
and our sensibilities
could break through like sun
after all that rain.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 7, 2023
And as for the things I was thinking about,
in the air that feels like spring
while frogs sing in the north pond,
and the list of things to do
is long enough
that whole categories routinely
drop into the void,
and we feel good if there’s one thing
we can check off the list
(though fifteen more creep onto it)
I forget what I was thinking about,
or what leaves me this odd contentment
while the fire has warmed the room
as evening slides towards night
and our moments, while prosaic,
show small signs of the gravitas
of eternity.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2023
Be astonished at what you find
in far-flung reaches of your mind –
more than difference,
what surprises
is recognition
What you were sure of
will surely topple,
and you will have
no will to stop it
as your eyes find
the hidden topic
and substance is revealed
So you’re inducted into the secret,
no mystery to those who seek it,
and when it’s time,
you, too, will speak it –
harmony of Mind.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 5, 2023
Memories flicker like lights
in the fire, in the windows’ reflections,
and their reflections of each other’s light,
dimmer, smaller, greener
in more distant iterations
The lights were real, and they still are,
however faintly I perceived them then,
however tenuous they may seem now
They may not light or warm me on their own,
but they do show me
the constancy of light through all my times,
which, when I turn to now,
lights up my present,
and also all the tunnels of my past.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 4, 2023
Young trees, we have great hopes for you –
we’ll set your gangly roots down in our earth,
we’ll try to keep you safe
from what would gnaw at you,
we wish you each a life of robust growth
We hope your limbs will soar and branch,
and birds will rest upon them,
we hope your roots will travel far,
communing with your neighbors
May your blossoms nourish bees,
and may your leaves be splendid,
may your shade be sweet and broad
and child befriended,
may we tend you well enough that you, in turn,
will flourish in your tending of the earth.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 3, 2023
I can almost touch
the sun-colored ripples,
when they come close, by my shoulder –
reminder of my essence and my source
So I remember:
my intimacy comes from there,
the present shimmer
gives me my constant light
No need to throw myself headlong,
down among the shadowed rocks
of circumstance, of social history,
of old and current wounds –
there is no comfort there, no guidance,
there’s no solution there, no truth
And since the truth is here,
I will not leave. When I am tempted to,
I will be still, and bask. I will be still
and draw, from my life source,
all that I need,
and all I ever want.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 2, 2023
To weather these times,
we ride on what we know will fly –
music, or touch, or high fantasy –
we find what takes us high
to keep our heads above the rising mire
Whether these times
encompass the swift end of all we knew,
or herald the bright dawn
of what we know must come,
we’ll need the touchstones
of everything we love
to bear us through them,
to bring us home.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 31, 2023
I.
We talk about the failure of words,
but maybe it’s not exactly that –
a thing of timing, more, or cadence,
and how the images,
though not strange,
rest in a different context,
whose description
would take a lot of words
and tax our listeners
We may have finer sensors than we know,
with which we measure
the time we have to speak –
space of attention
in which our words must fit,
or else the bubble will disperse,
letting our words fall
and our connection with it.
II.
And then again, there is an art
to listening, without intent
to offer any words, unless
they perfectly tuck in
to the place of need
that has been shared,
which they will do
if we have rightly heard
the space prepared.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 30, 2023
Outside, in the bright sun and cold wind,
the maple limbs stretch red against the sky.
The aspens reach eager and graceful
in their sea green tint.
Small flocks of birds come through,
and I’m glad these trees
give them comfort on their journey,
and maybe encourage them
to stay awhile.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 29, 2023
We welcome what sweeps through us
and makes us new,
we welcome sun, we welcome rain,
we welcome stars that show up briefly
at five a.m., and clouds the hills snag,
while they’re blowing through
We call it life
for being so much more than we can fathom,
we call it love for how it makes us
glad we’re here.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 28, 2023