I am no longer willing
to let just any thoughts
set themselves up like spiders
in my mind, constructing their cobwebs,
leaving their frass about
My mind is my temple,
my mind is my citadel,
and all the thoughts are called to service –
they must radiate
the great calm of truth,
they must establish peace
and see it take hold
within the whole of me
and all throughout the land.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2021i
River of peace
flows out from us –
be still enough to notice –
to notice that the heat of argument
is not us, the rage
at the bland cruelty of some other side
is not us, the hot tears
at having tried so long, so hard,
and still not seeing any signs
of coming any closer
are not us
Much as all those things claim
to need our attention, what they really need
is our calm. One that extends
all the way to the bottomless
limpid clear
simple justice
of truth. One that extends from our source
and rises as it flows
and where it goes,
the land will thrive
and all the waters will be healed.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2021
I’m still thinking of that spring
whose source is deep within you –
how it orients you
even if you hardly sense it there
And I’m thinking of the welling up,
the rising that no spring resists
that pushes what would block it
clean away
There is a river,
yes, there is a river,
there is peace like a river
surging forward without end
And yes, it calls you,
it calls your spring forth –
you have flowed into it
before you knew you would.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 26, 2020
These clouds that silently appeared
along the western ridge,
that quietly amassed
until they owned the sky,
at least the half of it
where the sun had been
These clouds that signify a turn,
prospect of rain, a wrinkle in our plans,
still paused to let the late sun through
and let themselves be cast in blue
And my desire
is for the same kind of peace
to rule my day –
whatever comes in later still offering
the same generous expanse
of presence and acceptance
and release.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 5, 2020
It is a tender time,
and the need for sweetness
may be mistaken for a craving
but it is really kindness we desire,
and the opportunity
to hold someone till all their fears dissolve,
to hold the stillness that can’t be moved
because it is everywhere,
to say good night with the assurance
of sweet dreams, deep rest,
and the splendid wonder
of an untrammeled morning.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 1, 2020
When the mother wave comes for you,
you will be cradled,
you will be borne up,
you will be bathed and buoyant
You will not miss
what you are swept away from,
you will not mind
how naked and how new
you feel, how far away
from your tongue are any words
When the mother wave comes,
you will delight in stillness.
all your worries gone,
your heart at home.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 17, 2020
And for now
I can sit like a low cloud
above the scenery,
I can be within the rain,
it can be something
that isn’t falling,
or it is, but I’m still here
There is a peace,
a suffusion of quiet glows,
a sense of being untouched
by what moves below,
letting my being be determined
not by my will or effort,
but by what moves in me
and makes me what I am.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 11, 2020
I’m not waiting
for something to happen
(nothing ever comes about that way)
I’m coming back instead
to guard my citadel
(which, before this, I didn’t even know I had)
A citadel that I can furnish
with warm lights
and soft corners to inhabit,
with knowledge of the truth imparting sacred peace
And when it’s set, and when it’s centered,
when it’s clear,
I can invite others in,
I can bring them in to share
this all transforming calm.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 23, 2020
We came here for this,
we came here through the rain,
the traffic, the boondoggles and backtracking,
the thought loops and the second guessing
We came here for this,
for this unassailable safety,
this deep rooted presence,
this consciousness that everything
is all right, everyone is worthy,
everything is at peace.
And after all life’s loops and tunnels,
it’s good to know.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 11, 2019
There will always be a pause,
because the loud shrieks and clamor
of all that tries to claim power
are not continuous, cannot sustain themselves
They start and stop,
as earthquakes, wind, or fire,
as sobs, as tirades, as things hurled,
and there is always a pause —
a curling up, the empty end of a breath,
the spring uncoiled, the flat repose of shards
And in that silence
still as winter, still as ice,
the crystal music will arise
It fills the whole field instantly,
interlocks the harmony of molecules,
sounds the depth, the space, the peace
that owns the matrix of existence
There always is a pause —
and everyone can find it —
that leads us to our home, infinity.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 3, 2019