One day they discovered
there was much more to sound
than the tinny pings they evoked
by hitting themselves and each other
They found they could stand open
and the grand wind would come in,
would focus their tones
like fine bells,
would ring them crystalline and haunting
in a reverberation
that caught them up in holy awe,
and they all stood still
and listened.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 19, 2015
photo by Edward Mulhern
Deepening hue of evening sky
imparts a dusky wonderment
that such a color
(crossed, though it is, by suburb’s electric lines)
carries the evidence
of the goodness of everything,
soft promise
that what stretches out
along my life’s horizon
is also saturated
with quiet joy,
enough to cancel out
the long seep of dread
that used to haunt my edges,
enough to fill the whole bowl of my aural field
with golden sound.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 16, 2015
In this endeavor
I will yield
as gracefully
as a pear tree
yields her smooth fruits,
precious seed entrusted to the taker,
juice collected from the sun
concentrated here,
the best gift I can give
of my substance,
in just acknowledgement that
all that I am is perfected
in this exchange,
all that I am is indebted
to this truth.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 15, 2015
And blessings will come with
the dark wind — rain and
bits of leaves blown from trees,
fresh washed air and the progress
of what has moved all through the night
Blessings, too, of dry warmth within
and the remembrance
that the eternal laws of mutual blessing
are forming their delicate but capable arcs,
in Mind, in body,
in the harmony of all life,
even while we speak,
even as we pray.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2015
(title quote from Mary Baker Eddy)
Well, I can’t purify myself
and I can’t improve my state of mind,
can’t add a cubit to my stature,
can’t fix myself, can’t fix another
But I can appeal
to the ageless order of being
that sings through winds,
that plays through rain,
that blows the scent of oceans
up majestic mountains,
that brings the scent of snow back down
I can appeal
to what twines together
the intricate lacings of life,
the waves of movement,
the harmony of breath
There is a knowing
before which my own concepts
are rendered silent.
Dip me in seven times
and I’ll be clean.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 28, 2015
When the mouth goes seeking,
the whole beast needs to come along —
the impulse of desire must bring
the ribs, the shaggy rump, the hocks
They all flow in one movement,
they summon grace,
they give it their attention,
they feel the call kicking them alive,
they carry out the shared intention
What the mouth finds
they all partake of —
in the feeding,
all the beast is blessed.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 23, 2015
I will not teach anymore
and I won’t imagine teaching,
won’t package up my
thoughts and observations,
won’t make lessons
I have recognized the danger
of such practices —
more than my lack of leverage,
more than the difficulty
of moving things from the periphery,
is my lack of knowledge
of another’s center,
and the fact that I can’t diagnose
someone else’s lack
“They shall teach no more every man his neighbor
and every man his brother saying ‘know the Lord’
for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest,
saith the Lord”
“Thy children shall be taught of God
and great shall be their peace”
I will not try to teach —
Instead, I’ll listen,
I’ll strive to learn,
on each occasion,
what the infinite has already imparted
to each thirsting soul,
each waiting heart.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 21, 2015
Fear not, little one,
Here is a truth you can curl up in:
Everyone has a place, everyone.
Goodness is the quality we all share,
the fact of life,
the guarantee of being.
There has never been
one chair missing
in the place where dignity is served.
No one is left out,
so you can be sure
there’s room for you.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 15, 2015
We do the little things,
clean sheets on beds,
lunch and dinner,
smiles like small fires
providing warmth
We wait on grace,
we keep the faith
and days yield their gifts —
shifts of light and color,
settling of thought,
and the sweet flow of everything
along the quiet lines
to their source.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 13, 2015
Here at the very bottom
I begin to detect
the function of tears —
They are our call for reconnection,
to feel again the waves
that flow through our lives,
to be borne up, to be carried,
to let go of trying to know anything,
wash away our failed attempts
to make things work,
get us to the place where all our heaving ends
and we can feel
the still and gentle Allness
embrace us once again.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 7, 2015