Too long I have been sucking on
the sugar-water, straining for the
drug of fulfillment, threading through
the tightly wound dendritic channels
of what I thought of
as my heart and soul
but really was the craving
of a self-looped story
for its own rehashing,
for its expected end

Too long I’ve acted, feeling
that I had no choice,
in modes of movement
that kicked me into corners
with stagnant air that I could barely breathe

And though I feel I’d need to throw out everything
to leave it, (everything! — my friends, my loves,
my sense of worth and purpose)
I’m also sensing this is what I need to do —
free fall at the mercy
of what I hope will bear me up
so I can be lifted,
so I can be real.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 16, 2017

The first ripe plum
from our tree —
juicy, sweet, tangy, sour,
the birds that flit from fir to cedar
as they darken (birds and trees)
while the sky is still full of light,
summer laughter of children
in the next block,
the scent of buddleia in the evening air

These, and the slow progress
through the tasks,
the tasks of learning,
the tasks of growth.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 21, 2017

In important moments
we realize
we have gone forward
without counting the cost —
something has overridden
all our cautious tallying

In these moments we find
a profound momentum
as the continuing imperative
takes over
everything we normally judge by

Afterwards we may consider
it never makes sense to count the cost
for there is no price
that can be put on living.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2017