The coals sink down,
the room grows colder,
and the day’s memories
stretch like embers
for my mind to scan –
the times of being cold, of being warm,
the work, the company,
joy finally remaining
the last thing glowing
as I turn my attention towards sleep.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 31, 2020
See how the colors brighten
as fog lifts, as frost melts,
the first reveal the most brilliant
with momentary wetness adding contrast –
one form of beauty
resolving to another,
the mystic mist to radiant clarity,
just like the daily presentation
of all the gifts we’re given,
just like the wondrous path
from earth to heaven.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 23, 2020
When I needed to hear
words to convince me
of the depth and presence of Love,
and how they could heal me
and focus my life’s purpose,
they were there
And when I needed to hear
music falling from the sky
sifted through the fir trees,
calling out from three trees away,
it was there in my ears
When I needed a sign that,
despite the garden’s failings,
we would gain the skills we need –
though through lessons I am slow to learn,
in time I’ll find I’ve learned enough –
that sign was there
I will not ask for more
than the constant care that guides my days.
I will watch humbly to be shown
and strive to act
as I am led.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2020
I have contentment
and equilibrium,
and vistas big enough
to overwhelm my sight,
giving vision to my freedom –
certainly that’s plenty
Beyond that, it’s out of my hands.
Beyond that, I can work to see
that the unfolding of my days
is true – see that it matches
the potential that is given,
continue in my daily press
toward heaven.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 7, 2020
We rise up, as does everything,
with wonder and gratitude
into the fact of being,
the rich Spirit that impels us
to grow, create, connect
We rise up because we must –
it is our milk, our joy,
it is our purpose
This is the substance of which we are made –
it is always with us,
and we are always with it –
splash of brilliance
that overcomes the heat,
flash of radiance
that lights our way.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 2, 2020
Well I suppose it’s a good thing
not to have outgrown the little happys –
pleasure that comes from things people say –
their kindness and appreciation
And while it’s good to cultivate enduring joy
that burns and burbles unconditional,
that flows up into places that need relief from pain,
that offers hope and comfort where it finds itself
It also doesn’t hurt
to get a message or a package
that someone took the time to send,
that someone thought of first
It’s good to be lit up by someone’s efforts
and that my little happy please them too.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 6, 2020
The rain moves through in waves –
crescendos and diminuendos
with or without wind
from a random direction
That we are loved is as apparent
as that the grass is, and the springing trees
that drink the rain,
less because of this dry place to watch from
than because gratitude
moves through us
just like that.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 22, 2020
Gratitude for joy at end of day
glows like coals in the cabin stove.
Remembrance of green shade
and steps made,
and some kind of entrance
into conscious freedom
rests easy in the evening hours –
strength and peace for now
and for the day to come.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 17, 2020
New language arises
in the differentiation of essential oils,
in the attention to small details —
freshness and sequence and timing
There are places in this noticing
for gratitude to take hold
with confident grip
to entrances too small to see —
thread hairs of its roots
reaching in and changing the ground
with what it brings
and what it calls forth.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 18, 2020
I went out shiny and hopeful,
I came back grubby and bruised,
I tripped over myself
so many times,
I got in my way —
such a familiar place
I had made grand narratives
for my triumph, had configured the words
but then found myself
once again
having to settle for silence
I know
there is another way,
I see the sweet humility
that overcomes the toughest challenge.
I feel the gratitude
for those quiet moments
where I see others
have found that peace
I can’t do this alone
but I’m not asked to,
nor am I charged to chronicle the story.
The steps are shown,
and all those dear ones
wait eager to receive me when I come.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 13, 2020