Wake up here with me
in the place where you are loved,
in the place where your belonging
is rooted in the web of all that lives,
all that loves, all that rises up
with joy to be alive
This is your soil, your seedbed,
this is where hope
undergirds your every breath,
this is where you wake up
and find yourself
fulfilling all your promise –
everything you’ve always known you are.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2023
I come upon this here,
my life, it would seem,
a bend of road, all these things
placed for some purported purpose,
and rain that’s fallen here –
how it has puddled
A road with mud and gravel,
a road with evening sky,
the path I travel,
a way to sometimes fly.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 13, 2023
Consider summer as time suspended,
and ponder if it’s possible:
a day with no fear in it,
having sprung free of death’s specter
and the shadow of other lesser gods,
to recognize the freedom
of being wholly owned
by the spirit of your dear heart’s desire
and its unfolding in your present, active sphere.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 22, 2022
Dust cannot cry,
so I must not be dust,
for I have cried out –
cried out in my desire for home,
and how could I know home
if not for this desire,
that which yearns me ever
towards its finding?
Dust cannot praise,
so I must not be dust,
for I have praised this life in me,
and I have praised it
in trees and buds
and in the eye shine that I see in others
Dust cannot declare the truth,
so I must not be dust,
for I have declared this being
to be true. Down to the core of it,
down to its crystalline ring,
out through the reverberation
clear across the bright air,
across the land
and up to heaven.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 21, 2021
In the morning
I seek out my Spirit home –
sometimes it’s right there,
sometimes, as today,
it seems a long journey –
it seems dark, it seems drizzly,
puddles settling in again to places
the sun routed them from yesterday,
platitudes trying to referee my thoughts
But Spirit is all present
(thank heaven for that!)
and there are many places
kindly held open
for that awareness to seep through
I may exert great effort
(not letting go until I’m blessed)
but my effort doesn’t win it –
Omnipresence, finally,
is what finds me home.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 5, 2021
So surprising to discover
the world won’t do whatever it does
with or without me. It doesn’t trundle
down its processes by itself.
I can’t choose whether or not
my presence here
will be felt
So quieting to consider
the world is a problem
for me to solve alone.
I must work it out
(as must everyone)
I must come to the conclusion
of the whole matter
(as must everyone)
whether I do it now or later –
I have, it turns out,
all the time in the world.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 2, 2021
I’m willing
to give up
any previous sense
of me,
willing, instead,
to be mirror,
to let myself be defined
in the light and color I reflect,
let my presence
multiply the infinite,
learn who I am each day
by what it shines.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 28, 2020
Don’t ask people
the why of this
(whatever this you have in mind –
the news, the views, the cosmos) –
They would like to tell you
but they can’t know
Don’t ask the what either –
The few of them that have a sense
most probably won’t have the words.
Ask yourself instead .
And wait till all the voices
that speak in second person,
and those that speak in third,
have settled down
When they are done,
you’ll find the I Am,
and that will tell you
all you need to know.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 22, 2020
When in the pauses, once again,
the clamor rushes in, the cluttered thoughts
of everything you’re certain
you want, and never want, to be,
the roaring doubts, upon that field,
of where you stand
Be still. Here is a voice that silences
all that clatter. This silence
is like velvet, like infinity.
This silence is the love
that holds both you, and what you thought of
as the other side.
It renders the winning
and the losing
fully irrelevant —
glows you all like coals
in the same fire.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 1, 2019
Standing under the porch roof
I aimed my camera
and tried to catch a lightening bolt
I failed, though I saw five of them
— lack of faith, perhaps,
in my ability, or in the likelihood
that it would strike again
Wind brought the smell of rain
(though it rained little)
and relief, if for the moment,
from the sultry stillness
and the thickness
of the thunder-laden air
To have a roof over our heads
is cause for gratitude,
which marks how far we’ve come
and gives a standpoint from which
we can receive more.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 5, 2019
