Tag Archives: communication

Walking it out

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Things can come clear
in the quiet steps of night
when there is time —
(a pause after a question
may take a block or even two —
the silence stretching taut between the houses
till there’s enough tug
to pull the answer up from underneath)

Things can come clear
in the dark
where a face can be averted
so exposing looks can pass by
undetected
and there is time
to regain composure,
to find the words,
and there’s time to get beyond
reflexive postures.  There’s time
to really hear, and to start over.

There’s time for the warm, quiet
language of hands
clasped through the traversing
of many streets
to make room for everything 
that needs to be spoken.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2013


What I will say

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I’m getting ready,
storing up the words,
letting them steep in their power.
They cannot be spoken till their time —
They need to leap across a certain space
and they won’t go
until they know
someone’s there to catch them.

In a real sense
this is not a performance —
I can only bring one half of the arch.
I can only trust that,
in accordance with the Law of Love,
the other half will be supplied by others,
and the circuit will connect
and the light will beam.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 26, 2013


Heather’s Rant

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You wrapped yourself up in that rant,
happy for its warmth
and its unique fashion —
how it made a statement,
served to define who you are

And I must agree
you look cute in it —
It brings out the flash in your eyes.

I’ve always liked your taste in rants —
Not the mall-multiplied opinions
we see pasted everywhere,
Not the vitriolic firestorms
that torch others to achieve self-definition,
Not the howls of desperation flung up
from a deep hole —
You find these one-of-a-kind, eccentric rants —
Your rants have soul!

©Wendy Mulhern
October 22, 2013


Grey

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In the mystic grey on grey,
the tiny waves, nearly mute,
lip the shore.
At one certain angle,
they glint transparent,
showing all the stones
beneath the water

We speak with clarity
found in the closeness
that cuts through fog
and shows our insides,
as limpid as the waves
revealing stones

We walk into the future,
not predicting anything,
step on step through grey sand
along the grey shore
while grey and white stones
settle softly
under the quiet waves.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 19, 2013


Invitations

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The dog at the beach
invited us to play,
and it was as clear as
“Shall we dance?” —
The same ritual gesture,
the same kindling spark of eyes.

We know these signs —
We don’t need to be taught,
but we must feel
we are worth the gift,
and our would-be partner is, too,
so we don’t mask ourselves
or dodge the invitation —

So we can fling ourselves,
as that dog did,
into the bright, cold water 
that rose against her chest,
bringing us with her
into swift joy.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 17, 2013


Mind and Heart

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It’s said the mind can’t solve its own snarls —
A pro at spinning yarns, it is too linear
to see beyond the knotted interweavings —
that, though it flows with ease
through many convolutions,
it’s too invested in the string
to let the tangle go.

Have a heart!
It doesn’t really matter
who said what, who did what, and why —
(Wait — that’s still the mind speaking)

The heart says,
Hush —
Your wisdom and your love
are strong enough to ensure
that every actor in this story
get full due,
be wrapped up in the care
compelling them to thrive
as the wonderful creations that they are.

The heart says,
Sink deeper
into these infinite arms
that ever hold you up.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 28, 2013


Sisters

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(for my mom, and her sister Marcia, and, I hope, for Edith)

You have connections
you may not notice —
A shared light in the corner of access memory,
How your eye may catch your cheekbone, looking out,
Your love of birds,
deeper than articulation —
something tugging at your inner wings . . .
So, though your worlds diverge,
When you come together,
you find that seated ease
where words are comfortable
but not required.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 5, 2013


Impending Farewell

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It’s a different kind of sadness,
imagining you gone —
Not the gaping hole of
many times and talks, now missed,
But more the sense of
all we could have shared together
that we never did
and how the opportunity
will soon be lost —

A sadness bittersweeter
because lately
there have been a few times —
like pioneer species that grow in,
repairing ecosystems —
A few sweet shares,
A few bright laughs,
Some brave attempts to find again
the closeness
buried under several awkward years

And I can only hope
our separation,
like the drawn-out pauses
in a storyteller’s tale,
will pull us back together in an eager depth,
With our communication easy, broad, and clear.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 20, 2013


Being Nourished

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(notes from the seventh five women gathering)

We wanted heaven
and when we gathered,
each with her desire
for healing, wholeness,
and that light-connection
which we each could feel
was what our essence craved,

When we gathered,
each with unfinished threads
of our own deepest strivings,
having gone as far as we could go alone,
By some bright miracle
and really without any of us trying,
our seeking edges knit themselves together:
In an instant,
quick as light flashing over water,
we each were whole,
we all were one,

We breathed the inextinguishable knowing
what it was like
to be in heaven —
how the strong arcs of our intention
circled one another, held us up,
how we each were lifted
to be a beacon for the others
thus fulfilling 
just the thing we needed for completion,
Thus embracing
what we’ve been and what we are becoming,
Fully tasting
what it is to be profoundly nourished,
what we’ll know to grow to
from now on.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 18, 2013


Shared Prayer, King County Jail

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After we finished talking
(in patchwork mix of four imperfect languages)
She held my gaze
and held it
till it became a carrier wave,
and lacking words,
I let myself sink into prayer.
I sent it out across the visual tone
I found the place
where we are one
I found the power
present in the infinite,
the source we share
that nothing can assail.
She nodded understanding
as if I had been speaking.
(“Estoy orando” I said then;
“I am understanding,” she replied)
and we did another round,
silent, deeper
till I felt myself changed
in the broad terrain
where we found ourselves —
knew that this was somewhere
far more solid than the stories of our lives.
“I hope,” she said, in Portuspanish,
“someday I can do for someone
what you have done for me.”
“I’m sure,” I said in Spanish,
“that you will.”

©Wendy Mulhern
May 13, 2013