Water over me, water under me,
water in me. This tremble of change,
of reset, of ripple,
of washing everything smooth,
hovers behind my eyes, my nose,
my mouth
There is peace here, and there is hope
in the quiet of crickets,
in the memory of water –
one day’s inundations,
another’s ablutions,
oblations I offer
and images I hopefully receive,
visions which I longingly believe.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 1, 2020
Sprouts of possibility
push themselves up
like seedlings where we’ve planted them –
still so small they’re almost imperceptible
but growing sturdier and more apparent
Like with my seeds, I’m not sure if I know
how best to tend them. Like my seeds
I’ll trust they’ll grow
with a power all their own.
I’ll try to keep them warm,
try not to over water,
and let the sun and springtime
bring them home.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 5, 2020
Now that my hope is fully uncoupled
from the day’s outcomes,
now that it holds itself
in its own light,
I can see shoots sprouting
where before, perhaps,
the weight of my wishes
would have smothered them
I have no wishes,
only conviction
that every living thing
forms in this sacred space
of weightless hope,
nurtured to fruition
by the attention,
in wave form contiguity,
to every breath.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 25, 2019
And after the thick of the storm,
like a little blue window
amid the clouds rolling and roiling —
a window that may disappear
many times before the clouds clear
and blue displays its winning infinite —
Somewhere before the dark has fully ended,
that blue window of truth
will give you hope,
and the storm’s narrative
will slowly cease to matter,
its irrelevance apparent as it dissipates,
and you can hold on,
for once you’ve seen it,
you won’t believe in darkness anymore.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2019
The lights are everywhere.
I see them, at times,
like chinks between the trees,
like smiles of pleasure and of recognition,
and at times like moonlight across fields,
silvery joy, opalescent peace
Sometimes I see them falling —
raindrops searching our their pathways,
sometimes I see them rising —
vapor in the morning sun,
in all the ways that they appear,
the same in essence,
ever called by hope,
answered in presence.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2019
What we’ve been taught to hope for
is so paltry, so far from being able
to deliver satisfaction, that it’s surprising
that we feel so disappointed
when those hopes are not fulfilled
If someone told you,
You can have the sky,
and free flight in it,
you can have fellowship
with all the thought, with all the music,
you can sing color and dance
the whole kaleidoscope of pattern,
would you believe them?
If someone told you,
You can be the love
that comprehends and celebrates
every small and large
impulse of being,
you can be the love that nurtures,
that engenders joy and exaltation,
would you embrace that hope?
Here is the voice telling you all that.
You don’t have to say if you believe it —
only notice if you want it.
That, eventually, will be clue enough.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 7, 2019
Such an awe-inducing gift
to be shown
the innocence of all the people here —
the child light shining up
through everything they do,
the hope of goodness,
the hope of being seen
There is no snarl of circumstance
that’s not untangled
effortlessly, gently,
in the rising tide of gratefulness
as each of these
receives the benediction —
yes, you’re welcome and essential here,
yes, you are supported in your being.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 17, 2019
What does this mean:
it’s not too late? —
when life has rolled on down its path
and suddenly I wonder
why I didn’t think to take a different course —
what it could have been
if I had better understood
and had availed myself
of current opportunities
If I had not been closed,
if I had recognized
there was another way
to think or act
What does it mean,
it’s not too late?
I don’t know what it means
but I am willing to believe,
willing to wait in wonder
to see how this can be true.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 14, 2019
To bring in range the choir of heaven
consider what it means
that there be no more death —
not now or ever — that the whole veil
be drawn away, and we perceive that
no one, and nothing, has ever died
If there has been no loss
of loved ones, or of wisdom,
or of life experience,
of ancient ways of knowing,
of lessons dearly learned,
of birds and animals,
of fish, of trees,
of anyone who loved them
That whole choir of ancestors
and children, and newly resurrected hope
would fill the realm of home,
would fill infinity —
Yes, I will be there, too
and yes, I too will sing.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 5, 2019
Here is my gentle surrender:
release of the constant instructions,
permission to trust that my being
doesn’t depend on my getting it right
Here is my tender surrender:
escape from the concept of consequence,
knowing my hope and my joy to be held
safe in the fact of my Love
Here is my centered surrender,
faithfully placed in the hands of my Truth,
flying in effortless calm,
borne by the infinite cause.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 18, 2019