Tag Archives: personal growth

Away

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dandelions

The dandelion seeds
nestle in soft fluff for a day
before they stiffen enough
(though still soft)
to be ready

Then the mother flower reopens
and the air ruffles their fuzz-tops
and they start to realize
in this time
they belong to this air
and they will leave
(impossible as it seemed the day before)

Their contact will loosen —
they will no longer be
part of this unity,
they will be singular
and the wind
will take them away

Not this instant,
not at a predictable time
but inevitably
they will be borne
into the greater whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 10, 2015

Spring Hay

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spring hay

The green blades don’t try
to inhabit last year’s stalks,
pressed by wind and rain
into the earth
(though they grew high
and pioneered so much)

The green blades
ride the surge of life upward,
energy released from where it waited underground,
springing up and up to harvest sunlight

There’s no need
to cart the old stalks away —
they will decay
while new hay rises vibrant,
lush, thick, tall,
taking the field.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 3, 2015

Riding the Beast

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We’ll keep on holding
the tail of this beast
though it lashes
and the beast bounds through mountains
and low limbs threaten
to wipe us off

We’ll keep on holding,
our arms just barely strong enough —
We’ll brace each other,
our clasp together
strengthening our grasp

We’ll have no time to notice
all the little things that otherwise
might take up our attention
but in some brief moments
as we catch our breath
we may notice
that we’re flying.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 28. 2015

New

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new

This is not my dormant season:
Every day, the sap is running
smooth and cold and sweet
along my inner courses
as the fresh form swells and claims new space,
ventures out across the wheeling rays of day,
skin touched, as for the first time,
by sun, by rain, in the eager stretch of greening
that meets the tingling air

And in the unseen places
vast networks of fine and tender roots
spring out along the paths within the soil

This is how it is —
selves of yesterday
fall off like sheathes, like scales,
each day I give myself to this life.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 20, 2015

Alignment

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far oak close

I am not astonished
at all that falls away —
I have so little time to notice,
for the cause
to which I find myself inherently aligned
reveals itself so vast
that there are no edges —
just the rapid sudden rise of color,
close and quick, enveloping,
overwhelming any standpoint
that could put it in perspective,
overwriting everything,
filling me so comprehensively
that I could never want anything else,
owning me
just as (I now see)
it always has.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 19, 2015

Crucible

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far oak1

Oh, these things we are so proud of
and the things of which we’re so ashamed.
these things that cling to who we think we are,
these things we carefully arrange,
These things we call ourselves
and what we call each other
all must melt
in the rising heat of change

And what we are
beneath our self stories,
What we are
beneath all our facades
will seem a small coal
when we first see it
but we will know we must acknowledge it
as ours

As ashes fall away, we’ll see the glow,
and as we hold to it, we’ll see it grow:
It will survive the fire,
it will endure —
It may be faint as yet
but it is pure.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2015

New Times

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new times

It’s no longer good enough
to feel sacred,
to string bright-colored spiritual baubles
and put them in our hair,
to feel vaguely enlightened

It’s no longer good enough
to be in the same tribe
with others who talk the talk
of spiritual urgency
and share the sense of what is most important

In this time,
action is required of us all
and our light must actually make things clear
and our connections
need to give us more than fuzzy feelings

We must nurture and support each other,
help each other claim our native sovereignty:
When we name Spirit
we must bring forth its fruits —
harvest of sustenance,
lifework of truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 1, 2015

Snuggle Me

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snuggle me

Snuggle me
for I’ve been playing the grown-up
for too long —
heaviness tugging me down,
hard knots in my forehead

Playing the grown-up
with all of its hang-ups,
studying contracts,
haggling with language

Snuggle me —
Somewhere within
is the timeless and ageless
core of my being
where wisdom runs totally clear

Let your heart reach me there
where the sweet currents
wash away every care,
smooth out the tangles,
free me from worries,
free me from anguish,
from those conundrums
offer release,
rest me serenely
in snuggle-deep peace.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 14, 2014

I Start to Learn

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Calipoioa river

I start to learn
to give up my positions,
start to learn to be the stream
flowing in the knowing
that nothing stationary
has any staying power —
nothing static is true
for more than maybe just a moment

And everything delightful
that endures, that excites,
that lends a constant presence to rely upon
is moving in the current,
being life, being dynamic,
defined in interactions and in vectors,
harmonizing forces,
stable in the action of engagement,
relevant because it’s here, alive.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 5, 2014