We will gather seeds,
we will gather scions,
we will gather the miracle
of ripples on the river,
the intersection of ducks
with all that physics,
light’s answer to the waves’ summons
We will be fed
by what we love
all through the winter —
the love will always be
what nourishes us,
however it’s presented
And we will feed others,
sometimes before we know it —
we will feed them
with our love.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 10, 2016
Sometimes when we get close
we scrape at the edges
of grief and longing, we
let out great sighs, which
have no words to fill them
Sometimes in grief and longing
we grow distant, wishing, perhaps,
to spare each other from the same thing.
Then as we come together,
we notice how deep,
how strong, complex and tender
is our bond,
How much we are committed
to throwing our weight
into the small boat of our hope
and rowing with all our strength
that we may steer it, finally,
to the long sought shore.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2016
This is heart country
and everyone here has their tender places,
everyone has the deep hollows
they can get lost in,
and if you step in them you sink way down
Walk easy
for this is heart country,
home of breaks and bruises
and of grateful, boundless love.
All who have hearts can see each other
if their eyes are open
Tread carefully, for each heart is different
and the paths to understanding
have many false turns,
but if you keep your own heart clear
you’ll find the steps
that lead you ever inward
to the common hearth.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 26, 2016
Sit with me here
as the glow of golden
settles in around us —
We don’t have to work anymore,
at least, not at this,
not at being together
and keeping space for each other,
not at reaching out our hands
for mutual support
Other work continues —
the work that’s called
the use of self, the work
that’s called calling.
And there is something magical
in how we are coming to where
our only work
is being,
and everything our purpose needs
appears like deer out of the woods,
silent and ready
to serve.
© Wendy Mulhern
September 25, 2016
We all get pushed, sometime,
through the mill of grief.
See how it changes us.
See how all the things we thought
were so important
are just nothing. All the contests
to be the most whatever —
successful, or attractive,
cool, or buff, or blessed —
are rendered pointless
In grief we have fallen
right off the escalator.
We find ourselves here at the bottom
while the parade rolls on above,
and when we see each other here
there’s nothing left to do but love.
And after that, there’s no returning.
From now on, we’ll see each other different,
the unmistakeable mark of tears
brightening each other’s eyes.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 7, 2016
Look up —
Right here where you are,
exactly what you need
is at hand. Each moment is packed
with more richness
than you could have imagined,
each person equipped
with what will fill you
with the heart-full rush of sustenance
However barren the landscape may look,
however threadbare your prospects,
however empty you may feel your interactions are,
what you need is ever always here
Look again —
The power of your love
will open all the secrets,
and the bounty that is waiting for release
will tumble out for you in grateful eagerness
to be the priceless thing that meets your need.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 3, 2016
(a bicycle epiphany)
I carried the heavy baggage
through most of the ride,
considered the balance
of expectations, deliveries,
considered the relative merit
of what we must have thought
were our positions
Considered how to hold the slight —
to be indignant, to be chastened
(while the almost rain, the dull damp,
did nothing to alleviate my state)
I shuffled around those
anxieties, justifications,
all the long words with edges
that poke out, the carrying of which
makes me awkward
Till suddenly I realized
they can all just fall away
in a tumble love that feels
warm and roly about everyone,
that gathers them in like soft puppies,
delighting in my surrender
to their charms.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2016
Your love will take you up the mountain,
ascend with you
as fast as focusing,
quick as the pause (from running stories)
in which you catch your breath
and let yourself sink
into the place of listening
The rising comes before you even notice,
before you think you’ve
figured it out
Your love
doesn’t run on logic
but on the obvious necessity
of its being
which has always been the truth
about it, about you
Your love will take you up the mountain
because it owns the vista,
and its nature is to share.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 3, 2016
Summer days,
and if you want a shade garden,
if you want refreshing honeysuckle breeze
to float through cedar,
if you want the cooling
of eighty years of standing
through moisture nurtured northwest nights,
come join us — you are welcome
If you want to be lifted
in the bright bubbling release
of knowing you are loved,
and that none of your halting efforts
and unfulfilled resolutions
make any difference —
nothing held over your head —
we are here to love you — you are welcome
And if you want to feel your roots
growing thick and strong
in the rich, dark humus of home,
curling like toes in cool, damp sand,
kissed by mycelium,
if you want to know your purpose
is established and entwined with many others,
come join us — you belong.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 28, 2016
Life, as it turns out,
is the only thing that matters.
We found out later
that we had gone through years halted,
an arm, perhaps, behind our backs,
some other essential element
not fully activated
We watched our thoughts scrambling
to make it right for ourselves,
to justify our failures or to vindicate,
to seek a truer path
or to decide that it’s too late,
to let the whole conglomerated
thing we’ve called our lives
keep tumbling along its haphazard course
to whatever inevitable end
the fall line has in store.
But the only thing that matters is Life.
Life that chirps above the traffic’s roar,
that unfolds in holy intricacy
beneath the ground,
that blesses odd moments with swift streaks of delight,
that rests us gently on the pillow of dreams
and rises in us, a constant consciousness,
the tenderness that takes us by surprise,
the love that keeps us opening our eyes.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 23, 2016