Demons be gone

There is no dark council of judges
hunched in your mind,
proclaiming you worthless, helpless, lost,
viewing your actions with scorn,
offering snide comments,
leaving you to squirm
in the pain of their eyes
towards the light

There is no desperate toolbox,
things you can use
as protections from them,
things to lash out with,
maps of avoidance,
haphazard lines of defense

You are the light! Your being
has never depended on others’ approval,
never depended on them.
Your limitless brightness
outshines their shadow,
proving they never had power

Look – the whole room of your mind
is clear and free – there are no judges there.
And now you know it
they never can come back,
and you can love your life
as who you are.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 1, 2021

Stories of the Light

These truths are told in riddles,
because any of the words,
if taken without the whole,
would miss completely,
would lead thought
down a cramped and narrow maze
with no conclusion,
just a looping back
to the same old tired illusions,
cause and effect trapped
to serve the ends of lies

But once the whole is grasped,
its presence becomes obvious
in every story, every hope,
each earnest effort,
and the light, which, after all,
had to be there for us to see anything,
turns out to be the substance of our being,
and we’ll  be no longer duped to think
it has to serve the shadow  –
the shadow disappears, and we are free.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 30, 2021

Anticipating

I’ll probably sleep well tonight,
long day’s work spreading itself oddly
into my dreams,
working with tools, solving problems,
being caught aloft in a gust of wind

There may again be waking moments
when the waning gibbous moon
peers piercingly
through our little window,
or the cold and hot of things
requires adjustment

But there is a rich blanket of peace
that billows like a magic carpet  –
it will carry me through those moments
right on till the early dawn.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 29, 2021

Pleasures

These days it seems the best pleasures
are not the ones we plan,
but those that swoop upon us  –
hot shower in the rain,
gust of cold air as I walk
back to the cabin, fire-warmed within,
small expressions of appreciation
for our work, each with our separate tasks,
mutual understanding,
the sweeping sense, at wee hours
of the night,
that all is well, that goodness reigns
and never lets us down.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 28, 2021

Journey of the Mind

I am not alone,
for in this journey of the mind,
I bring you all with me –
you who I have known a long time,
you I see in these most recent days,
you I knew before but lost contact,
you I’ve never met

I bring you all with me
because, in truth, 
there’s no way I could go alone.
My mind and yours,
like one fish seen as two
in the refraction of the glass
must move together

I can’t go there alone,
for we are one,
and will rejoice together
in every glimpse of truth and beauty
all along the way.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 27, 2021

Taking a lesson

These trees don’t ask
who will inhabit
the forest they will become

These trees don’t plan the canopy
or what will change
when their limbs join at the top
and seal out the sky

The undergrowth responds
to what’s here at this season,
this place in the cycle of succession

They will meet the changes
in the full on way they live,
as will I, as will I.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 26, 2021

Inner Work

I will not settle for the sad reaction,
the small dismissal of my hope,
the putting off, till some unknown horizon,
of what I claimed as truth for here and now

Instead,  I challenge
the hidden supposition,
the buried barb,
the lie that, if believed,
would lead to every minor sorrow,
and the major ones as well,
collectively would sap
the joy of life, the will to live

Instead, I recognize the harmony
that rings so clearly,
instead, I lift the latch
and set the story free –
down in the smallest place,
I find the catch and let it go,
and feel the amber peace come rolling in.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 25, 2021

In Due Course

When you ask a question like that,
do you listen for the answer?
Are you willing to let the question
seek its course, like the tendrils
that reach into memory,
like the seeping of water
down and down, through the soil?

Not hearing an answer
is often the result
of speaking again too soon,
throwing your voice against
what sounds like nothing
but is really the seeping and seeking
of the question,
which will bring back it’s answer
in the fruition of your patience.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 24, 2021

All ye in free

I wanted to comfort
my seven year old self
as she walked the asphalt playground
singing a song to herself
to provide a good story
for why she walked alone,
never dreaming
what lines she had crossed
in the effort to excel
at a game with broken rules,
how her own scoffing at others
was what condemned her to her solitary lot

In comforting myself
I wish to comfort
every lonely one
(in their past or in their present)
who was skewered by the twisted rules,
tricked into condemning,
then finding themselves caught
on one side of the story or the other

I wish to tell us all
the game and all its rules are over  –
all ye all ye in free –
come on home!

©Wendy Mulhern
March 22, 2021