The last light of the sky
wraps us in grace,
glows a reminder
that all of this –
all of this light and this color,
all of the cloud dancing grandeur,
is here for us,
here to fill us with
that which responds to the day’s gifts –
leaps up – no need for us trying –
proof of the stuff we are made of.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 19, 2020
Let me be nourished, these years,
by the pure essence
of what I am,
as it rises, churning forth light,
to meet what calls it,
as it answers with its own self
the summons to expand,
to venture forth like stars
in a young universe,
to feed itself with acts of blessing
it is called to give,
to feel itself becoming, more and more,
the very heart of all it has desired
In that way, after three years,
let me stand before the king,
for any king will see
this light outshines
any standards of the world,
this light is true –
true, always, to its source.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 25, 2020
The light that casts no shadow
glides into the canyons of your heart –
colors that you never saw
glow forth from all your deepest places
Things that you had feared
and your strategies to overcome them
suddenly are gone, as are the things
you didn’t like about yourself
with their attending judgments
and castigations
All those constructs of the dark
didn’t even need to be swept up
and casr away –
the light that fills you up
was all you needed.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 9, 2020
Follow this brightness
back to its source,
see if you can fathom
what could bring it forth
morning by morning,
day after day
The magnitude of it, for one thing,
and the fineness of its resolution,
and the way we are given our place here,
in wonder and awe,
and illumined the same.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 11, 2020
I couldn’t find a poem tonight –
couldn’t find it in the last glow
of daisies against the twilight,
or in the last spark of the fireplace coals,
couldn’t find it despite all the magical manifestations
of light – trees bathed in sunlight, dark clouds behind,
sun shining through rain, how clouds
nestled in distant valleys
held light longer than the hills
I couldn’t find it, maybe because
I was looking for something important,
forgetting that everything is.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 7, 2020
Let me approach
with utmost respect,
with reverence for the size and shape
of the place in you
that is designed to open
You will recognize me
in our mutually reflected light —
you will let me in,
you will come out to play
We will multiply our brightness
like flames in oxygen,
like fragrant blossoms in the midday sun,
we will be fed
and we will feed each other
in the pastures of the Allness of the One.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 29, 2020
In light traveling, as I slowly learn,
I must be vigilant
not to put my weight down,
not to stick my fingers
into any situation,
lest I be grabbed
and wrenched downwards,
lest I smudge and darken
my perception
In light traveling
I must hold myself
open to the wind
and to the logic of Allness,
and everything that light touches,
so I am borne up
in the fabric of everything,
so I am woven true.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 10, 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
All we ever wanted
was to be reunited
with our source,
to be in that communion
like water is
as it travels on its journeys
to be reunited with itself,
as it carries light in liquid ripples
through rills and streams
All we wanted
was that certainty
of what we are —
that we are good,
that we are one
with that which lights us up within
We may pursue our winding path
through darkness,
but it’s the gleams of light that lift us
and our light reflecting essence
that guides us
(as we will see when we look)
to everything we wanted.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 24, 2019
Light comes in the morning,
orange, then gold, then white gold,
etches shadow filagree on walls through windows,
folds its glow through cracks of doors
And if I simply don’t allow
for any place to be untouched,
if I let light bathe every curve of thought,
I’ll leave no place inside for dread or worry,
I’ll entertain no images of scorn
And if, like sun, my love is humble,
indiscriminate because its source is infinite,
it will leave space for birds to shine and sing
in their own language, and smiles to well up
from their profoundest depth.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 20, 2019