Tag Archives: family

To my children

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My hopes for you, I know, aren’t mine to give
And that is good —
You each must find your way
I know your lives were never mine to live
Your goals and purpose
Never mine to sway

And yet I wish for you
and yearn most deeply
That you would feel the present touch
of Spirit
The swift igniting joy that meets
that truth — you’re loved — 
relayed so you can hear it

My helpless knowledge that I have no sway
in this, or any other gift, leads me to pray
To seek a surer source
for your contentment:
What I can’t give
I leave in Spirit’s hand
As sure as you’re alive, you are attended
by all that makes you peaceful, pure, and grand.


©Wendy Mulhern
January 2, 2012



The Day After

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Our sorry state: we are distracted by
Cacophony of year-end clutter
All the things that fell and lodged
In places where it’s hard to clean them out.

Too much packaging that came with gifts
Plastic that we need to throw away
Scrumpled paper lurking 
in the corners behind chairs
Backlog on to do lists for the day

The sun that showed for just five minutes
Prior to diving into overcast
Is heading downwards now behind the clouds
The dark of early night will overtake us fast

And if we scramble, maybe we can overcome
The tasks and trash and distant blare of commerce
To find the peace we hoped the season promised
Establish order and reclaim our home.


©Wendy Mulhern
December 26, 2011


For Edward, Christmas 2011

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The words have been said, many times.

What matters more than words
is the homing
That which keeps us turning
back toward each other—
Some internal balance that is set
for us to always seek to lock together
spin as one—
A part that always searches for
its counterpart.

Home (for me) is where you are
and where we are
when we are one
When we stream together
Lie along each other
plunging down the course of life
like river currents side by side
that race and laugh and dip
and reconnect
Joyous whitewater of reunion.


©Wendy Mulhern
December 24, 2011



Goodbye Aphara

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The time of grief for a dead bunny
Seems to be about forty-five minutes
A flowing of real tears
And loud cries
As the love bonds are being released
Hands gently, but forcibly unclasped

I see them let go
And let the lavish love
That they bestowed on her
Through many years
(Wherein she grew quickly
And then they also grew quickly)
Home slowly, but steadily
Toward themselves
Return to where it can serve them
Multiplied by their having given it
Ready to be given again

So we said goodbye
Light bundle of fur and affection
Leaving a hole in our days
Leaving her kiss in their hearts.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 19, 2011


Receiving

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    I won’t dismiss as ego
The need to be received
Wrapped in a soft receiving blanket
Passed from arm to arm, enchanting
Cooed over
Welcomed
And cradled then especially
In loving and protective arms
To look out knowing
You are guarded fiercely
And treasured more than anything before.

Why should we think this need would go away
because our bones have grown
our circles widened out?
This need must grow apace with all our being
To knit us to our tribe
and show us how, in turn, 
we’re made to so receive each other
To welcome, to accept, respect and love
An ancient gift that we must now recover
to reach our peace, our purpose, and our home.
©Wendy Mulhern
     November 25, 2011


(Background music: Isaac Shepard, “Memories Never Fade”)

Parenting a teen

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My friend is coming over, he said.
Please:
He doesn’t know how weird you are
Remember
This impression he will form
is what he’ll keep.

So hard to be a teen with parents
who might dance in the kitchen
while making dinner
or laugh out loud
or even kiss
So mortifying
They don’t realize
how to be props
nondescript
acceptable
like all the other parents that he knows

Me – I hope that as he grows
he comes to see
To dance in your own kitchen
and to be
as jubilant or goofy as you feel
Gives others, too, permission 
to be real.


©Wendy Mulhern
November 10, 2011



frost

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frost last night
rooftops white
called out for cuddling
hugging and snuggling
soft radiation
from warm liquid comfort
coursing the corridors
running the heart paths
beating the inner drum
toning the ancient hum
fire cast shadows
flicker in reddish glow
heat sources, signaling,
summon me home.


©Wendy Mulhern
November 6, 2011


Folding: Three Figures

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I
Some origami masters
fold in dim light
Perhaps this helps the forms
engage imagination’s flight
Perhaps it sensitizes
their fingers and their thumbs
Engendering precision
that only comes
with the closest of attention
with the time it takes 
to sense the folds
against the darkness
of the room.

II
You asked me for some feedback
I said, just that it was perfect
That appraisal can apply again today:
That everything you brought —
Your gifts, your insecurities —
Were just what was needed
As must be
(The law that governs this
being impeccably precise)
No thing you bring
is ever out of place
It flows in oneness
in the dance of grace.

III
I’m taking time
to let you grow
to let me heal
to smooth the flow
until the shift across the fold of time
will, in its time, reveal
the form once hidden
in the implicate—
unfold it splendid
in its primal state
where all potential stands, realized and steady
where all that is to be is there already.


©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2011



Storms

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When waves crash
Let me be a deeply rooted rock
Integral to the earth itself
Solid down to the heat
Where magma stirs my feet
With primal warmth
To which I can retreat
Far from the cold and violent froth
And water pooling
Running down and down
Removing from my face
With its persistence
Microcosmic grains to join the sand.
Let my deep heart rise unmoved
To meet the water
Patient, calmly waiting
For this barrage of waves to pass
For sun’s return
As all the moving, living things
Open their small mouths
Receiving what they need
In their right time
At wave’s crash
Or in quiet pooling
Or in pale star shine.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 30, 2011



Mending

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So I go back
to those early days of anguish
when I didn’t know
how to make it right for you
When the hurts to you
brought back stabs of childhood wounds
which my defenses couldn’t cover
as they couldn’t shelter you
But now
I bring a new perspective
Something that I hadn’t seen before:
The current running through you — a light-river,
The roots that held you firmly to your source
much deeper than a child’s tight clinging
to a helpless mom —
comprising a most formidable force
If I had known of this
I wouldn’t have been anguished
If I can know it now, we both will be
unburdened of imagining you damaged
so moving forward whole, beloved, free.


©Wendy Mulhern
October 27, 2011