Your spirit wins

When there is no way to win
and your spirit throws itself down
one or more of many thwarted paths
the failure says, you’re wrong
your choice is bad
your blighted life
is all your fault
though you may flail
and cry out, crazed, for justice,
the censure drowns your voice.

When there is no way to win
in this world
your spirit still forges itself
a rare and brilliant thing
unseen by all the dust its rays illumine
unnoticed in the thrust of days’ relentless gloom
till love’s ablutions wash it clean
and there it shines
a light that overcomes the world.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 11, 2011



Emissary

I sat with you on the couch
your legs across my lap
me hugging them
willing my touch to span
the space between
my hope and your dread
to flock like emissary birds
to flutter by your head
and brush you with their wings 
and softly coo
awaken all your inner angels
so they stand in force and tell you
you are not alone
you are not fallen
you are as strong as a brass horn
that chortles in the morning air
and summons great guffaws of joyous confidence
from wells in you
deeper than you ever knew were there.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 10, 2011



Returning

Thank you for your peace
Today I’m back for more
Thirsty
Vaguely lost
Disoriented
by relentless tides
pushing from within against my skull
And so I turn
Lay down the package I’ve been toting
All the bricks and rocks I seemed to think I needed —
stories explicating who I am and why —
Spirit, I am yours, and that’s enough
No need for more
No need for knowing what
bright path tomorrow will provide
Only that you guide me from inside.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 6, 2011



Lullaby for Myself



    Steady Spirit
Take me home
Wash my soul in bubble bath
Wrap me in a huge white towel
Terrycloth, with hooded corner
Let me leave my foolish day behind
Let my thoughts be gently realigned
Rock me till I give up all my tangled, knotted will
Let me float into your peace
And there, at last, be still.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 5, 2011

(background music: Isaac Shepard: “Doors of Life”)

Perfection

some things are perfect
delightful in every way
nothing contrary
has any say
some things you win
applying
meticulous design
some things come so simple
they arrest your mind
you ponder
how could this have happened?
can I make it work again?
but you don’t know the answer
so the mystery remains
and some things, by their nature
when you let them be
will always come up shining
and you just may see
there’s a wisdom in releasing
all your dreams to find their homes
there’s a magic in allowing things
to come into their own.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 4, 2011






Epiphany



    You don’t have to wait for joy
It’s not contingent
on conditions
things you need to do to earn it
strings of power others hold, 
gurus, teachers, texts to learn it
being not too young or old

You don’t have to wait for joy
It doesn’t hinge
on times and tasks that need to come together
or alignment of the stars and weather
It’s here
Sure as you are

Illusion’s claims will never
of their own accord
let you off the hook
They’ll always book another thing
you have to wait for first
But you don’t have to wait for joy
Here:
It’s here
Sure as you’re alive
Close as your daily breath.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 1, 2011


(background music, Isaac Shepard, “Elation”)


All is well

The circle spins around again to stillness
The wave has crested and it glides back down
In the ebb it murmurs and regathers
Readies for another go around
Even in this quiet place, there’s movement
Rivulets returning to their source
Slow building for the next essential moment
When once again the cresting will burst forth
I flew! I flew, and I will fly again
Though now it feels most perfect to be still
Give no attention to the gradual build
— When it will break, or even if it will
All’s well — in this soft place I’ll trust the flow
When it’s time to leap again, I’ll know.


©Wendy Mulhern
September 28, 2011



The Daily Swim

(I refer, here, to the Hindu concept of maya as something like illusion.  I am not Hindu, and I might not understand the concept correctly.  But it serves to express something that seems true to me.)

Maya’s myths, like milfoil
Catch at my ankle
If I thrash, they’ll wrap me tighter
Tempting me to spend my power
Till I sink
But it’s water that I float on
And it’s here, and it will hold me
I can glide along here softly
Let the milfoil drag behind
And as the water deepens
They will finally cease to reach
Up to my world, and I’ll swim free

For now, some say “swim gentle
Think of its fronds as caressing you
A tender tickle, nothing to alarm”
Some say “swim with scissors, 
Cut them off, deep as you can.”
Some say “just add water
Floods and floods will do
To drown out tugs of maya
And carry you.” 


©Wendy Mulhern
September 27, 2011






Anniversary

Today we celebrated twenty-nine years
(One day shy, to beat predicted rain)
Together in the easy way we share
Our days – the comfort we maintain
Through our routines, our challenges, and here
This day we set aside to mark another year.

What holds us close? More than familiarity
inertia, or the fear of something new
A confluence more than a similarity
Of life perspectives, faith, and point of view
As hands may clasp while thoughts are worlds away
Some elemental gravitation
Makes us stay.

We’ve built a store of comfort through our sharing
Of hopes and fantasies, and wild imagination
We each have crossed, with trepidatious daring
A chasm of our fear and separation
So though we move on different planes, we each
Can move into each other’s inner space.

Most of all, I celebrate today
The deepening within us that has risen
From saying yes, no matter what, I’ll stay
I’ll hold with you, I’ll keep your perfect vision
That keeping makes us shine like pearls
That form to soothe abrasion, like lights
That hold up worlds.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 24, 2011

The Dancer

I wrote this poem in the fall of my freshman year at college.  Mostly I was having fun with the rhyme schemes.  Actually it was one of those times when I felt like an expert skier of words – slaloming down the sounds with ease and grace.  The sentiment, while not one I was deeply feeling at the time or writing out from, was one I could remember and relate to.


    Something wrong, something right
Something true, something trite
All of us are waiting for the answer
Let the song play through the night
The magic shoes are always bright
And who will try to stop the dancer?
Who will try to stop the dancer?
 
Frenzy spins her topsy turvy
All the scenes are blurred
She celebrates in sorry fury
While we wait to hear the answer
Who will try to stop the dancer?
 
Someone said it’s good to sing
And see the images expressed
But all the joy is spun away
And still the dancer finds no rest
    And something’s wrong – she’s no more blessed
She’s crying, asking why
The shoes give no reply
And why won’t someone try to stop the dancer?
 
Sluggish days and sleepless nights
Though pen is dead, the hand still writes
In limp ink, tired assignments
My mind seeks realignment
But no one here can find it
And we’re still waiting for the answer
Who will try to stop the dancer?


©Wendy Mulhern
Fall, 1975