Though I often see myself as a container,
I am not a container, nor yet
an essence contained
I try to see myself
as the response to a wish,
an answer to a summons,
that which is awakened when the dream ends
I try to feel how my being
rises to the touch of the moment,
thrilled consequence of Life’s desire to be
Thus uncontained, my presence serves the infinite,
collecting nothing but not empty —
free.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 16, 2018
Every human face,
every packed for travel,
masked to the public,
spilling secrets anyway
human face
has its own center,
its own world,
each with its maps and longings,
its paths and landmarks,
hopes and strategies
And no matter what stories
they tell themselves
and no matter what anyone thinks,
each world is turning
with an order and a harmony
we humans hardly notice,
though it hums through all our moments
and keeps us here, alive.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 11, 2018
Awaiting the cleansing
I catch myself bracing
for the onslaught of rushing water,
or is it fire? the truth so huge
it will purge me of everything
I thought was my substance, but isn’t
As if whoever that is, who braces
and anticipates, had anything
to do with me. No doubt
it will be among the first things
swept away, and then I’ll notice
that I was always
one with my creator.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 9, 2018
You have done well, my friend —
you can stop measuring.
No need to weigh yourself —
you are your own balance
No need to look for flaws,
not in yourself, and not in others —
they won’t be on the test,
won’t be collected or compared,
won’t be evaluated
You can present yourself
clear and simple as one step forward
in which you are instantly
filled up with light.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 4, 2018
The sand won’t fail to ripple
in the pattern of the light,
in the pattern of the waves,
in the pattern of the wind and tides
The harmony of light and shadow,
ebb and flow, advance, receding,
holds each grain of sand
here where your toes, delighted,
find them
So it is with what we call our lives —
nothing puts it into place,
nothing holds it there
except the truth that permeates our days,
harmonic waves of blessed, light-touched life.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 30, 2018
I’m not saying anything
about the quality of the box.
It’s a lovely box, and I can see
how it has given sense to your life,
a frame from which to view,
with which to order
all the currents streaming through your mind
I’m not saying anything
about the quality of the cage.
Certainly it’s a fine cage,
gilded and artful. It sets off your plumage,
provides a visual counterpoint
to your graceful lines
I’m just saying
something inside is making me
want to walk away. I don’t want
to try those containers out,
at least not now.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 29, 2018
No need to stand on pretense
for we both have sat
in the shadow of death,
we have both been changed
And whatever we professed
before that
is irrelevant —
we are in a different place
Our eyes now —
they don’t avert as quickly,
we take the deep time
to let things soak in,
to let the colors darken
in the wetness,
the saturation gather at the edge
No need to hold each other
to what we said and thought
in former times. Those times are gone.
We have today.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 26, 2018
The infinite will not compare you
to anyone. The infinite has room
to see you infinite, has room for everyone
to be one of a kind,
in their perfectly appointed place
You in particular
(not to stint the same for every entity)
celebrated in the amazing way
you are what is needed,
(a role that opens out for each of us,
each of us holy,
each of us resplendent where we are.)
©Wendy Mulhern
November 18, 2018
No need for agony —
it doesn’t matter
how many times you failed —
no need for bludgeoning yourself
with all those painful awkward memories
You can leave them in a pile.
You don’t have to take them with you,
and, in fact, you can’t.
You will not be judged by them —
they never have been you
No one will weigh you,
for your measure is infinity
and your unfoldment
beyond all time.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2018
Though you may fall and fall
through the bars of memory,
hitting at moments, going back and down
Though you may feel
striped beyond redemption,
branded by the light and dark,
strobed to instability
You cannot fail.
This is not about you —
it’s about your Maker,
and your Maker knows you whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 31, 2018