The Allness

Allness

There is no word
for the vastness of this Love.
It encompasses
so many oceans of tears,
it melts
every shard of broken, wounded fears,
It sweeps up everything
whose individual outcome
seemed to matter so much,
it holds them softly,
makes each a gem,
a light-refracting prism
of more brilliance
than they knew to hope for,
Sets all of us
on our sure and glorious course,
smoothes us together,
releases us
into the bright waterfall
where we sing our days,
still held, still safe,
still wrapped in rapture,
whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 7, 2015

Your Passage

Your passage

Though it seems amazing,
even to me,
I am not afraid.

Though you face this void
and I can’t be there,
though I can’t take your steps for you,
I am not afraid.

I know the riches you’ll reap
from this passage
are without compare,
and are for you alone —
You will attain them,
you’ll bring them home

Then we will celebrate,
for you will share this with us all —
We’ll be elated,
and you’ll be free and whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 30, 2015

Faith

faith2

No one else does it for you.
That’s OK —
This holy work
is what you’re made to do.
The you essence,
so pure in your mustard-seed core,
must draw in the life water
that makes it swell,
must split, and multiply
and open out
so bringing forth
everything you are

There is no turning back,
there is no giving up —
once started, your unfoldment
must continue
till you, too, bring forth precious seed,
spreading your blessing
wide across the land.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 27, 2015

Storymongers

richmond beach small waves

The incident is immediately
thronged by storymongers,
elbowing each other for your time

Some offer blame,
some offer quests,
some offer juicy roles —
the martyr, the oppressed

Any one will take you
down a convoluted path,
offering light
just around the next corner

Some may offer softer rides,
some may promise more intense life lessons,
Each of them will swear
they are the only way,
None of them, however, will deliver

The one thing that can give you what you need
gives it quite clear — apparent from the start —
the cleansing waves of light across your brow,
the steady flow of truth into your heart

Stay open, and resist the stories,
urgent and compelling though they seem —
Hold out instead for comprehensive vision
and rise, thereby awakened from the dream.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 26, 2015

Flesh

two hands1

I will see God
in my own flesh,
I will know in my body
that I am healed

I will feel the truth
in that most intimate way
where my body speaks
and my so-called mind
is taken entirely by surprise
and must surrender
to the imperative
presented in the moment

This experience
will not be co-opted —
though I seek to reproduce it,
touching flesh together
to re-enact the spark,
constructing circumstances
to replay the moment,
building fantasies to lead me back

I will at last be led
to the Spirit source
that owns everything
I can feel or know,
that wakes up everything
— heart, soul, flesh —
to exaltation,
to the mystery of Life.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 10, 2015

photo by Edward Mulhern

Liberated

greenlake dawn redwoods

Though you may carry your shame
in your posture,
though you may exude
the helpless unhappiness
that shows you feel
your body has not been your friend,
though you feel bullied
by its insistence on exposing
your ungainly softness,
making you a target for rejection

Though you have also hidden
behind your flesh,
made it a fortress
behind which you hope
to be invisible,
You can’t hide your glorious light

You are a marvel —
your sensitivity, your fine desires,
your tender hopes, your latent
tendrils of affection
are intricate and precious,
and if the world isn’t worthy
of your gifts,
it still needs them
and will be profoundly liberated
as you set yourself free.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 4, 2015

Be Still

be still

Here’s what you need to know:
You can stop fretting,
stop playing back the pain,
stop trying to corral it in a story,
assign it causes, seek solutions for it

There is a refuge from
the tug of sadness
that circles and strains
behind your eyes
and tenses like a sea urchin
in your throat

There is another place within,
and the liquid weight of you
always pulls toward it,
the gleaming quicksilver of you
slips through your structures
but is not lost

Be still — this essence of you
delivers you shining
to yourself.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 27, 2015

The Enemy

enemy

It does no good
to lock your doors
and man your fort
when the enemy
has made itself
your trusted confidant,
sits there behind your ear
accusing,
criticizing everything,
infusing all your thoughts
with the putrid stain of rot
which you may mask with sadness
or with anger,
from which you seek escape
with sleep, with drugs, with pain

Fear not,
for what destroys the enemy
works even here:
The truth of your unstained and perfect love
which flows out from your essence, strong and pure,
will wash away the lie and all its voices
within you and outside,
and you’ll see clear.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 26, 2015

Fruits

summer squash

We each have struggled,
each have been isolated
and felt our path was long and hard
and that we’d failed somehow
to gain what we had hoped for
and thought had been expected of us

We had failed
or been let down
in some cruel twist or some trick test —
so many promises
left unfulfilled

But look at us here —
We’ve all come to this place
where we are bathed
in a glow cast by our own light.
We haven’t failed —

All this time
we were each following our own course
along the unerring imperative
that now dissolves all that darkness,
revealing our sweet fruits.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 17, 2015

Redemption

morning fog, Marcola

When scales fall from my eyes
day after day,
When I see with new light,
When I see how many of my constructs
have been wrong (all of them, really)
Should I be surprised that gratitude
grows as easily out of tears
as green blades after rain?

However justly I may have earned
all the isolation in my life
(however weird I was, and blind, and gross)
there is redemption:

None of us has ever owned
anything to cast us from the circle.
None of the condemnations ever
had any truth. None of us
deserve (nor have we ever)
to be anything but celebrated, loved.

There’s no account I need to go and settle,
no debts, no currency of wrongs,
no need to reconstruct an altered story —
I forgive myself, and everyone,
and wake to home.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 6, 2015