Windows open,
doors open,
thought opens, and with it,
possibility
There is no chasm
between desire and its fulfillment,
however much we’ve heard there is,
there’s no obstruction
between Spirit and its action,
between intelligence and its ideas
And therefore
we will see the opening
of all the pathways,
we’ll see them traveled,
we’ll see them thrive,
we’ll see the hoping
rise overflowing
as fondest visions
emerge alive.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2023
In this hope colored morning
there’s no need to have a reason –
the buoyancy lifting from within
doesn’t wait for permission
Life proves itself like this –
before demands for evidence of worth,
this presence simply presents itself,
and nothing need be said.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 8, 2023
Hope’s waters rising,
and there is no need
that anyone stay stranded on the banks
Hope’s waters rising,
and their flow,
imperative, yet tranquil,
gathers all who were afraid to move
Sweeping them down,
compelling yet buoyant,
hope’s waters redefine the channel
Those who were dry,
and those who decried a wrong direction
are folded in –
no need to fight in this battle –
hope’s waters bear us all home.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 6, 2023
Morning rises
through layers of unveiling –
dark lifts, fog forms,
softening the moon
Fog melts, and dainty clouds appear
in slowly clarifying blue,
sun tops the evergreens, and slides
slowly southward,
tiny dewdrops sparkle
on tufts of tender turf
Auspicious opportunities
parade before the hours –
we will ride some of them,
others will wait
We are in this day, in which
presence is progress,
and process has nothing to do with it.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 16, 2023
It was a time of sun and wind
and frog song,
and winter water on the land,
and color all the brighter
for the mostly muted season
Ravens overhead were unconcerned
who heard their family raucousness –
they, too, sent heart-lift,
joy of life and flight,
span of blue sky,
float of clouds,
rain-washed freshness of the day,
tokens of the hope that guides our way.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2023
I see the smallest things can rescue me –
a string of lights, an ornament, a laugh,
the space to listen, and the joy of being heard,
remind me of what binds us to our source
Tonight the frogs are back,
singing from the north pond,
tonight my path of hope is reestablished.
Any tatters in the shroud
let light come pouring through,
help me remember where we are
and what I am.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 25, 2022
I’ve given up knowing
what should be in my days,
what should be in my years
(having come up with terrifying emptiness
one too many times)
I’ve given up thinking
I could choose this, or steer
my world to any kind of outcome
My faith, then, is in the daily gifts –
the promise in bright sparkles,
the sparkle of bright promise,
that which comes steady and confident
into my mind, and shows me what I’m here for,
if only for today.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 3, 2022
This morning quest
has me once again
seeking the well of hope,
learning what I hope for
Sipping the substance,
tasting the flavor –
my hope for truth, my desire
for life and love
I ponder: this indeed
must be the substance of my being,
this spark, this longing,
must hold the definition
of who I am
Must remind me
what I live by,
what I live for,
what will guide me
humble and exultant,
through the many turnings of my day.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2022
The last glow of evening
marks high summer over,
though we will have more heat,
and the dry wind isn’t done blowing
through the trees and grasses,
but the loop of temperature
is entering its long ellipse again –
as soon as early evening,
open windows will cool the house
We feel the changes,
we feel the overarching calm,
and though there’s so much we’ve yet to master,
in yet another mode (for they are infinite)
hope will find its way to rise.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 6, 2022
Sometimes I feel myself swimming,
as structures dissolve around me –
all the things that people try to count on,
all the reasons people give for living
There still seems to be a grand march
of purpose – many marches –
stridently in conflict,
but my sense of what is real
sinks right through them –
I can’t align myself to their directions
Sometimes I feel new life forming –
seeds amidst the liquid,
reaching out to web together,
understanding substance in a way
we haven’t done before,
giving me a place to plant my hope.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 26, 2022