In this moment of afternoon
I walk in quiet wonder
through a subtle quality – the day
softened by tears,
softened by sweet conversation
that went on last night long after dark,
softened by the relief of finding a next step
out of a tight place
There are fewer words in my head,
and that is softer,
and the sun and breeze are softening each other,
and we can have direction
without being driven,
and we can have this day,
uninfluenced by time.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2021
I stand in the sting of my misstep
as it rings through me,
an orienting of straight lines
like rain I could stand in,
like rays of light at my periphery
My dream warned me of this,
and I knew what it meant,
but I didn’t summon the strength
to stand up with it,
didn’t make the effort
to change my course
So now, what is left
is my contrition
and my willingness
to transcend all these frames
and seek a surer guidance
for my feet.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 20, 2021
Well and if I set off
at a smart trot
only to be brought up short
by some thread I did not release
Let me remember –
the whole resultant falling
of my intentions
is itself just another thread
to be released.
There is no failing –
when all the threads are cut,
I will go free.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 16, 2021
There’s a reason
to approach all progress
with a gentle grace
There’s a logic to the structure –
though a building may rise high,
it never grows beyond the need
for its foundation
Though I gain a lofty view,
there’s no outgrowing kindness,
and the love that grounds me
must always be the first thing,
and must shine through
whatever I attain.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 22, 2021
It’s a good time in your life
he said, to think about these things
(when I confided what I had been pondering)
Like the effect of being handed stuff
you never worked for,
but are assured that you deserve,
that somehow
the hoops you jumped through
and the mantle you assumed
should be enough
to buy you all those things
and make you worthy
What is the real price
for learning to be real?
How did the people who achieved it
come upon it?
These things I start to fathom
from walking on the land
and building fires
and fetching water.
But there is so much more –
enough to occupy my days
for now, and for as far as I can see.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 22, 2021
I took myself out
of my narrow shaft of light,
the one I thought shone
only on me, the one that showed me up
as either worthy or unworthy,
but different, categorically, from others
How to explain this?
– it’s not to say
I don’t think I’m unique,
just no more so than anybody else,
it’s not to say the light
doesn’t shine on me,
just that it doesn’t shine on me alone
How could I have thought so?
All those years, that wondering
why I felt so lonely,
why friendships
could seem so hard to find
(looking for another
singular
shaft of light)
When all this time
all that I needed
was to look and see the sunshine
resting on every head,
on every life.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 27, 2020
Unlike tomatoes, competence grows
without regard to seasons.
It may have cycles,
like roots extending underground,
where it is growing steady but unseen,
a skill then suddenly emerging as a new tool
Or it may be like adolescent roosters,
whose early crows are rough
and oddly off key,
who still persist till various refinements
crow forth, though intermittently
No coach, no teacher
tells them what their crow needs,
but after many, many calls
they gain more confidence.
So, too, my competence may find
its early-rising, clear strong calling.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 26, 2020
The day grows late,
the shadows longer,
much I attended to
has passed away,
old goals abandoned,
and former hunger
is just an echo,
a line erased
Yet new fires burn,
new lights are kindled –
I look out from my eyes
and feel brand new,
for as I turn
from earth to Spirit,
a veil is lifted
from my view
There’s still a long road
stretched out before me,
unending need
for me to pray –
the thought that I may
do good to someone
sustains my hope
and points my way.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 12, 2020
Now that I’m sure
all contests are over
(no one to tally my merits,
not even me)
What do I have but this day
and its sounds?
Trees dripping from recent rain,
blackbirds at the pond,
towhees and turkeys,
sparrows and mourning doves,
others whose names I don’t know
What do I have but this day
and its learnings, steps on the ground
through the rain loosened mud,
things we will build, and things that will wash away,
What do I have but this day?
©Wendy Mulhern
May 18, 2020