The way my body feels —
like jumping with delight
into a cold river,
bright as the sun edge
on the still shining far bank,
mirthful as submersion
where the clean cold is most welcome,
happy and wobbly like trying to
balance on slippery shifting stones
My body feels giddy
before the momentous proposition
of immortality
and the goodness of everything
and the clear conviction
of being rescued
from a sad dream.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 28, 2016
It’s time.
It’s time to pierce this bland shroud,
this heavy and impermeable sense
of being held down,
of having an internal weight
that droops my efforts ever toward inertia,
proclaiming all that’s good must end
while what is bad will rumble on forever
Every live thing testifies otherwise:
Every green shoot pushes up and out
against its boundaries,
reveling in strength
turning the downward pull
into its springboard
in its eternal act of living power
Every sentient being
delights in helping others,
in striking up the magic multiplying
chords of giving joy
that flow in sweet increase from hand to hand,
that sing forever down the grateful land.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 19, 2015