Tag Archives: identity

Seeds

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In the quiet of twilight
birds fly, and people walk or drive
to one perch or another

All of these
are like seeds,
every one of them full
of the glorious hopefulness of life
that chortles and bubbles
as if to burst its envelope
but which, instead, carries them along,
puts bounce into their being,
sings the song of them
even as they live it

Every one of them waiting
for the sure sign of their belovedness
so they can spring forth, holding back nothing,
so they can relax, borne up
on overflowing joy

Every one of them precious
in the eyes of anyone
who chooses to see them,
every one of them able
(on being seen)
to deliver the whole world.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2017

Notes on Light

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There is no fall,
we are not shards,
there is no fractured mirror.
We are not separate from light
nor are we light’s receptors

The light is not a fragile thing we hold inside
that could be smothered, snuffed out,
or extinguished.

It doesn’t dwell more brightly
in some than others,
it can’t be hoarded
or lorded over

It has been said that we are light.
Consider what that means —
for light can’t be divided,
can’t work against itself,
can’t know its own absence,
so full of presence and radiance
that light is all it sees.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 29, 2017

A Bicycle Song

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Climb on your wheels,
salute the early sun,
attack the hill then glide on down,
this time is yours,
these breaths your own to take,
this is your course, this is your way

You will be free
in every challenge
and you will feel
your heart’s balance —
you’ll know it’s real
by how the wind embraces you
all down the trail, all down the day

You may not understand
how you are mixed in this,
what planes are you,
which are illusions,
but you will move
along the lines of what is true —
that’s how you’ll know,
how you’ll know you.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 25, 2017

Amen

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I don’t want the goodness of being
to be something I make up,
something that can fail
if my imagination
or my persistence
be lacking

I don’t want it to be up to me
whether there’s joy in the day,
whether the people in the world
feel fulfilled, know they are beloved

I want that truth to dawn
on its own, because it’s true,
because truth is insuppressible.
I want to get to be surprised
and delighted
by the goodness of being
spilling into my life
with joyful abandon

I ask this in the name of
all that is real.
So be it,
and so it is. Amen.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 16, 2017

Animal

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I keep thinking about
the little animal
with the sharp teeth
and the silky, sensuous body,
with its mammal warmth
and its round lair
and its flaring territoriality

I watch the animal within,
I see it turn and curl,
I see it growl and snap

And I remind it
it doesn’t need to do that.
There’s a grand connection here,
there’s ample safety
and there’s peace.
No need to defend me —
the animal is free to sleep.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 17, 2017

Undisturbed

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My days go along smooth
like a stream that’s found its rhythm,
gathered enough volume
to flow in silent swiftness
with only subtle murmurs
over underwater stones

I seem to be learning
through a series of reflective observations
how to distinguish who I am
from the impostor

I’m finding that I cannot be offended,
can’t be insulted or annoyed
and can’t be injured:

The “I” that’s true
gets its essence from its source
which never ceases,
and gets its impulse
not from reaction
but from the constant sustenance
of good

So things run smoothly
which before were turbulent
and what was helpless
finds the power of calm.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 13, 2017

Unfallen

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Wake me up, remind me
I am not fallen
and I never fell. I don’t need
to claw my way up,
the pit sides
crumbling and smearing,
sending me back down,
I don’t need to be
covered in mud as I climb

I am not fallen
and the dawn,
calm as it ever was,
celebrates me
every bit as much
as these reverent trees.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 3, 2017

Shine

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And the weaving together
of all these bright points
stretched into curving lines
through their movement,
tracing color, tracing form

The weaving together
that delivers unrestrained joy
and super refined peace,
that weaving is directed
by the being that enfolds us all

We will dance it
but we don’t need to design it —
all we need to do today
is shine.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 1, 2017

Point of Perfection

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It was strange to step out from the story
of bumbling incremental progress
under tutelage of experts
in every undertaking we aspired to master

It was breathtaking
and hard to believe
we could progress
from the point of perfection,
lovely always, in everything we do

It seemed almost unfair
but we got used to it —
we attained it in one area
and then expanded

And found there still is plenty
of space to learn and grow,
starting from here
where we are good and worthy,
starting from here
where we are humble and perfect,
where we begin right
and so continue.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 24, 2017

House of Sticks

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I don’t want to spend more time
in the house of sticks
with its rickety stilts
sticking down into the river,
not enough integrity to be a boat
and so required to constantly
resist the flow

I don’t want to rely
upon its chinks and weaknesses
to let the flashing light into my vision
(its shaking makes the roaring current fearsome)

Don’t want to be
the victim of its fall,
pierced with broken points,
toppled in rigidity

I want to slip free,
lower myself gently
into the coursing brightness
and glide.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 9, 2017