Tag Archives: relationship

Keeping

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I will keep
what’s been committed
to my trust —
each precious soul-glimpse,
each secret shared
(or spilled, in the earnest, bumbling
sloshing of a heart,) 

each gift that’s given me
of hard-won ease,
each doubt-enfolded impulse
that fights its way through all those layers
and emerges
in some quick moment I may chance to see —

These are priceless —
I will give them all the honor they deserve.
I will keep them,
I will not forget.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 21, 2013


Discernment

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If I can see this fog
then I can see
it isn’t that you’re blurred
and indistinct,
it isn’t that you’re dull and distant.

I can separate
the vibrancy of you
from that illusion.
I can see
there is no need
to find a way to brighten you
or to discard you
due to lack of color.

I can let my understanding
lift my vision
till the fog disperses
and I see you clear.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 14, 2013


Prickly

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No need to engage
with the shrill and brittle
sticklike visage you present,
no need to be taken in
by the rasping preconditions
you establish for connection,
no need to feel grated.

Though these words won’t reach you,
I can tell
this isn’t you —
the image you propose
is not the one you want,
you aren’t enamored
with the harsh and petty rules
that you espouse.

There’s no need for you to be impoverished.
Reflexive words, repeated fast and often,
don’t need to be a substitute for faith.
Nor do you need convincing —
no use in any thoughts I might be baited to express.
You just need time —
quiet time, still time,
calm embracing space
and lots of tenderness.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2013


Compatibility

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I am ready to take on faith
your good heart,
your pure soul —
I am sure that the worth
of your talents, your quirks
is inestimable —
critical part of the balance
in which all life spins

So my only other question is: 
What is it like to stand
in the room of you?
How will you hold us,
how will you shelter
those that stand with you?
Do you know
how to hold a hearth,
a warm place of peace?
Or can you make yourself at home in mine?
If so, I’m in.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 8, 2012


Afternoon nap

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I wake up
to the lazy intersection
of dream and evening noises,
of sleep-infused limbs,
and the slow wheel of reflected headlights,
window-shaped, across the ceiling.

It’s hard to rise
from the compelling coziness
in the place where the threads to the day
have dissolved,
hard to drag myself away
from the sweet tangle
that pulls me languidly
into its spell.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2013


Flow

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There is no stasis
(he said)
in relationships. Everything
is always moving

(Yes, like skin slides against skin
and may find a stopping point,
but then will find another way
to flow, exploring the soft
give of bodies and the many ways
they fit together)

Everything changes. Perspective,
relevance, immediacy, 
brightness, hue, saturation.

But there are constants, too —
the steadiness of pure soul
always being what it is,
shining through.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 4, 2013


By design

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Don’t worry.
I won’t lay out my program of bliss
without you. You are in it,
you will always be in it
because your being
brings me such joy.
(And if you want this
to apply to you, it does.)

I can’t imagine
bliss without you there.
The precise hue
of your perspective,
the timbre of your laugh,
the texture of your cuddle
are essential.
Your wisdom balances things,
your needs are needed.
In my vision
you will always have a place.

Wendy Mulhern
November 3, 2013


Walking it out

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Things can come clear
in the quiet steps of night
when there is time —
(a pause after a question
may take a block or even two —
the silence stretching taut between the houses
till there’s enough tug
to pull the answer up from underneath)

Things can come clear
in the dark
where a face can be averted
so exposing looks can pass by
undetected
and there is time
to regain composure,
to find the words,
and there’s time to get beyond
reflexive postures.  There’s time
to really hear, and to start over.

There’s time for the warm, quiet
language of hands
clasped through the traversing
of many streets
to make room for everything 
that needs to be spoken.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2013


Grey

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In the mystic grey on grey,
the tiny waves, nearly mute,
lip the shore.
At one certain angle,
they glint transparent,
showing all the stones
beneath the water

We speak with clarity
found in the closeness
that cuts through fog
and shows our insides,
as limpid as the waves
revealing stones

We walk into the future,
not predicting anything,
step on step through grey sand
along the grey shore
while grey and white stones
settle softly
under the quiet waves.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 19, 2013


Invitations

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The dog at the beach
invited us to play,
and it was as clear as
“Shall we dance?” —
The same ritual gesture,
the same kindling spark of eyes.

We know these signs —
We don’t need to be taught,
but we must feel
we are worth the gift,
and our would-be partner is, too,
so we don’t mask ourselves
or dodge the invitation —

So we can fling ourselves,
as that dog did,
into the bright, cold water 
that rose against her chest,
bringing us with her
into swift joy.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 17, 2013