Notes on Light

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

The Language of Light

I’m learning the language of light.
Like all languages, it takes practice,
it takes immersion,
and there’s a great sense of victory
when I dream in it

I’m learning the language of light,
just a few words at a time —
the names, for example,
that people have for themselves,
a name, perhaps, that they
forbid themselves to use
but wait in deep longing
for someone else to speak it to them

The verbs, also,
like soar and lilt
and rise, and meet,
and own your truest name

I’m learning the language of light
from countless tutors, large and small,
the flash of a moment, the steady care of years.
Though my words are halting
I say them anyway,
for that’s the only way to really learn.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 13, 2017

Foretaste of Spring

It’s February
but the yard is fragrant
with sweet box
and small birds are chattering
and the air is balmy

It’s not yet time
to go inside
though our outside tasks
are done —
It’s time to breathe this day
a little longer
while the tops of the fir
and the pine and the cedar
are full of sun.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 13, 2017

Deconstruction

The whole story begins to rip
like a wet paper bag,
contents pushing through the corners

We have been so far
from where we belong,
so removed
from what we’re meant to be,
bundled away in this dark sack
wrapped up in our separate packages

But here’s the rain
and here’s a soggy mess,
and here in streaked glimpses
we see some light

We will get out of here somehow
and lift our faces to the rain
and sing and sing
and dance and dance.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 26, 2017

Gathering Light

Where two or three are gathered
we can do the work we couldn’t do alone —
we can see each other holy,
we can see each other whole

When so resolved to be the truth’s beholders,
our eyes can lock and concentrate the light —
we form a crystal pact that leaves no room for darkness,
we look on everything with deeper sight

And so is ushered in our knowing
of the living power, so we are transformed,
the network of our caring ever growing,
as everyone who joins us here is warmed.
Though they may enter cold,
they leave here glowing.
This is why we’re here,
this is where we’re going.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2017

Choice

The atmosphere of my temple
is my choice. If I feel clouded,
if I can’t find the joy amid the sorrow
of my story, if the words I use
to help remember what I am
fall flat, if it seems that things
far beyond my control are at fault,
this is what I must remember

The atmosphere of my temple
is my choice. I can choose now
to let the story lie inert,
a sleeve with no breath in it.
I can choose to let warm infinity
fill me in tones of gold and orange,
I can let my peace rest, soft, around me.
I can turn away from words
to that which doesn’t need them,
I can fill my temple
with what I live to feel.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 25, 2016

Treasures

greenlake-jewels

In the moments before waking
I find myself walking through veils
searching for treasures,
collecting them like strands of light,
curling them around my consciousness
to hold on to them
as I transition into day

I choose them for their cuddly warmth
and how they glow like hope,
how they make me feel: this
is what I live for —
all the good in life
for me to learn to bring forth
throughout my hours awake.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 22, 2016

Coming Home

tree-to-tree

With great relief, we set aside
the screen of judgment,
and with great awe
in that ungridded space,
we find the light emerging
from within us,
from within each other,
we find the bonding chords
to sing our unity

And we pass under,
the signal coming with us, tree to tree,
presenting presence, here and here and here
along the trail,
the bright reminder of this arc of circles,
connecting network spreading out
as far as we can think

This, now, is home,
the one we’ve always longed for,
this is what we own,
this is our sense of peace.
This is our home
we share with all that lives,
boundless embrace
which we never leave.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 17, 2016

What’s Real

beach-locusts-winter

I feel what’s real
has been here all along —
it sometimes stood in shadow
beside everything that we were striving for

And sometimes in our clamor
we would wholly mute it out,
and sometimes in our prayer
it would sift in,
subtle as light between branches
lapping limb shadows
across the other trees,
coming into quiet focus, recognized as substance
by the joy that rises, and the fullness

And happiness turns out to be so simple,
not needing anything but presence —
presence and welcome, kindness and acceptance,
the free gift of loving you
just because you’re here,
the many-dreamed essence suddenly clear.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 16, 2016