Tag Archives: death

Living On

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living on

(Cynthia’s wisdom)

You will live on.
This is your gift —
Your aliveness
with which you feel
every incredible tender thing —
the supple softness of rose petals,
the rush of breath against your heart,
stirrings of life forces
across your skin

You are alive
and you can bring them with you,
the ones you loved —
You haven’t lost them
because they live in you.
You can’t leave them
any more than you could leave
your bones, your blood

You have to take them with you
(which is what you wanted anyway)
This is your gift
to you and your loved ones —
You take them with you
as you live on.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 29, 2014

Preparation

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There are so many ways
this whole dream could end
that I’ve gone beyond worrying.
In the end, I have to take my stand,
have to be unmoved,
uncowed by all the threats,
because life is like that, I guess —
Seedlings make their stands
on impossible outcroppings.
Sometimes they grow anyway,
into big trees.

If everything changes
I will still 
do what seems best at the time,
still fight for life and love,
still be
whatever it is I am.
So my best preparation
is to know what that is
and live it,
fearlessly, fiercely,
with all my heart.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 16, 2013


A Most Important Thing

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At this time of life
depth seems a most important thing —
the balance weights that extend  
below the illusion we call the ground,
the ones that give us
dynamic presence
so we can’t be tumbled
from our own truth.

Though many forces
may push us flat against the ground,
we are not phased
for we rebound,
immediately realign
with what we are,
embody a circumference
that’s wider far
than what we had before believed.

We need this depth
to move with purpose
through the social daze,
We need this size 
to overcome the myth of death.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 7, 2013


A Moment of Silence

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(for Chris and Aviva, or maybe for the rest of us)

A moment of silence
for the parting of worlds,
a separation I don’t understand
though it is frequent —

It’s like when a stone
drops into water —
the ripples spread out on the surface
as the water is opened
and then closes
with the blip of its round edges
coming back together

But the stone is in a different world —
the medium is thicker
and it falls more slowly
down and down
even as our marking of it
moves out and out

I can only imagine them —
all the edges of awareness
keenly open
as they enter
the next adventure,
perpendicular to that which we perceive.

A moment of silence
to let the stone fall through,
and feel the ripple.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 27, 2013