Draw Me

carkeek rain

Draw me in, hold me close.
If there never was safety
in the circles that we drew
around ourselves, around our clan,
defining insiders and outside,
making structural strength
in the arc of joining arms

If there never was a safety
of tastes, of languages —
if all this is, as we see,
unceremoniously swept away
(that, or eaten steadily from inside)

There still is safety
in the unity of what we are,
the blessedness we sense as ours,
and the desire for it that always
draws us to our source

Draw me in,
for here is where we find
the common breath, the common voice
that sings us ever
safe and sound
resounding through our days.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2016

Untangled

last leaves

You lift me from my tangled threads of story,
though I grab back at them, keep trying
to catch them up, to follow them,
to tease them out

Your hand is firm,
You hold me still
until I recognize
I was not ever tied
to all those histories,
never bound to those projected outcomes

I have always been
determined solely
by Your essence.
Your untroubled knowing of who I am
sings me into being
in every moment,
never moved by any other force,
hallowed, safe, and steady on my course.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2015

“today is big with blessings”

 

blessings

And blessings will come with
the dark wind — rain and
bits of leaves blown from trees,
fresh washed air and the progress
of what has moved all through the night

Blessings, too, of dry warmth within
and the remembrance
that the eternal laws of mutual blessing
are forming their delicate but capable arcs,
in Mind, in body,
in the harmony of all life,
even while we speak,
even as we pray.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2015

(title quote from Mary Baker Eddy)

I Shall Be Clean

sequoias

Well, I can’t purify myself
and I can’t improve my state of mind,
can’t add a cubit to my stature,
can’t fix myself, can’t fix another

But I can appeal
to the ageless order of being
that sings through winds,
that plays through rain,
that blows the scent of oceans
up majestic mountains,
that brings the scent of snow back down

I can appeal
to what twines together
the intricate lacings of life,
the waves of movement,
the harmony of breath

There is a knowing
before which my own concepts
are rendered silent.
Dip me in seven times
and I’ll be clean.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 28, 2015

Importunity

importunate

I press myself down
importunate
into the hollow
of my desire,

Wet with storm,
so rendered pliable,
cleaving in to feel the contact
at every point
For this is how I reconnect myself
with my creator

This is how I know
everything I am to be,
this is how I give up
all the dividing space,
all the illusion of separation

I press myself deep
into my desire,
I let myself be wet,
I wait.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 26, 2015

Seven Times

they shall drive thee from men, and thy dwelling shall be with the beasts of the field, and they shall make thee to eat grass as oxen, and they shall wet thee with the dew of heaven, and seven times shall pass over thee, till thou know that the most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will.
Daniel 4:25

grass and shadow
I’ll take whatever baptism I can get —
Let me be wet with the dew of heaven,
till I know:

1)
Not my scheming mind,
not my fretting, fearful mind,
not my story seeking,
straw-grasping,
hoping and despairing mind,
but the Mind of stars and seasons,
of microscopic earth connections,
of fragrant sweeping tides and cedar boughs
guides the action of my life

2)
Not my self-concerned, capricious tastes,
not my opinions,
not my brittle sense of what I am
determines me,
but the Soul that sings through every morning
and sustains the song all through the afternoon,
goldening the evening,
coloring the mystical transition into night,
chiming through the stars,
tuning the subtle shifting
in every blessed hour until the dawn

3)
Not my cyclic bursts of will,
my spurts of motivation
(between the slumps of lethargy)
not my halfway efforts
to accomplish something,
but Spirit’s steady, constant inspiration,
that brings life’s fruits to fullness,
each in their perfect time —
this crafts my being

4)
It’s not my sense of life,
its little arc, and my attempts
to fill it with the things I think I want,
but Life’s design that brings me forth —
so joy-filled, so abundant,
spilling forth delight,
limitless and free

5)
Not the set of things I’ve thought I loved,
nor the (also small) set
of what I’ve thought loves me,
but the unrepressed infinitude
of Love comprising everything,
fills me up with its desire to be

6)
Not my former judgments of what’s true,
based on what I thought I understood,
but this great Truth is what I must acknowledge —
which makes a place for every being,
each one with its center, each a centered love

7)
Not my sense of law — of what is right
or what I might decree,
but that full Principle,
which holds the world
in ever-moving harmony,
is the law that governs me

Seven times, and then
my reason will be sound
for I will know
The Most High, the All Good,
makes me what I am.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 21, 2015

The Smell of Smoke

Sequoia, Edward1

They are not touched
by the smell of smoke
or any aftermath
of any evil thing

There is no chain of hurt
no mindless consequence
blowing down the canyons
into people’s lives,
nothing that can sit upon them
bearing down upon their lungs

Every one of them
regardless of what happened
anytime, anywhere,
can find themselves
clear and holy,
pure and whole,
just as they are imaged
in the Mind that makes them
who they are.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 9, 2015

Our

our sky

Beneath the sky
my phone reports as cloudy,
my love darts up
to the soft curved body
of the gull flying low overhead,
pale morning color
glowing around its belly

And I feel sure
that it receives the love
as all bodies are designed to do —
receptors and transmitters
of what shines
brighter than light.
So I begin my prayer:
“Our.”

©Wendy Mulhern
June 5, 2015

Uplifted

Yachats seaweed

Lift me gently
as rising tide
lifts seaweed in tide pools
so their strands can float freely
and wave in the current
untangled, unmatted
in shimmering softness
drinking the sun through the water

Lift me gently
supporting the whole of me,
letting me move in the sweet understanding
that I am upheld
and don’t need to hold myself up —
All that I am
swims delighted in you.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 4, 2015

Under

Brackett shade

No answers, please —
no answers from me, anyway.
Let me go down
to that place far underneath the words
where the rich shadows
snuggle like blankets,
soft undulations of somber colors,
and the subtle hammock swing
rocks me to stillness,
weighty as sleep
tugging me deep
to where the silent waters
wait to spring.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 13, 2015