Revolution

Posted on January 13, 2012 by Wendy

The revolution will not happen by itself.

I can’t turn over for another hour’s sleep,

Then see it like late morning’s sun,

so many hours risen . . .

The revolution will not happen

from my smugness

where I pretend I’ve worked out

all my issues

and can simply wait . . .

The revolution needs

my deep insistence, daily

on the laws which cause my brightness

and every dawn

and refusing to again be duped

by any story casting life as barren.

The revolution takes knowing

You are needed

I am needed

Each one needed, uniquely

Swelling in the firm, insistent way of seeds

Whose self-unfoldment cracks the rocks

Each tiny one performing

Its own miracle of growing

So the revolution comes.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 13, 2012

Baubles

Posted on January 5, 2012 by Wendy

In the game are many pretty baubles

They look to be the prizes we can win

The things to strive for, yearn for, long for

Tantalizing traps to keep us in

The baubles glint just out of reach —

We chase them

We fling desire at what we may attain

Success, romance, acclaim —

Then happenings erase them

And leave us sad and empty once again

Their light, however, has a different source

(No light is generated in the game)

The tempting glow each thing emits

Hides brilliance that the game could never claim

Beyond the game, Love’s truth shines ever bright

Always enough to quench our thirst for light.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 4, 2011

No

Posted on January 4, 2012 by Wendy

This may be the game

but it is not mine

This may be the game

but it is not life

So much complexity

So many things to study

So many permutations

to distract us, keep us tangled

The hand you’re dealt, we’re told,

You have to play

You may be lucky, privileged or poor

Or maybe you are brilliant but disturbed

Addicted, disadvantaged, or a rising star

It only makes a little difference, though:

As long as we’ve consented to be playing

There isn’t very far that we can go

We all remain imprisoned in the game.

Today I mouth my infant words

of no

No, I won’t play; no, this is not my game

I won’t define you by your cards or course

I won’t pick up the dice of shame and blame

I won’t be cowed by game-incurred alarms

or things the game insists I have to prove

I won’t let any game-based definition

distract me from my purpose and my love.

©Wendy Mulhern

January 3, 2012

Perspective

Posted on December 17, 2011 by Wendy

The truth endures in geologic time

Where stones, in their inexorable leisure

Form and re-form,

Sifting, vaulting, melting,

Crystalize in metamorphic treasure

And all the impositions on our days

The despotism, lies, and power plays

Are nothing – have no weight

And own no time

And can’t establish anything that stays.

What though their dark impress has pulsed

through generations,

dampening their light?

The voice of truth is not reversed

and so it dawns

on every sight.

These dreams will prove

ephemeral, irrelevant

Our waking rocklike, pure

eternal

Heaven-sent.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 16, 2011

More than survival

Posted on December 16, 2011 by Wendy

It may be

that love is so potent

we can survive

on just a tiny bit

We may think

if we can have

enough love to survive

we should be happy

We should then be willing

to slave through our days

herded and cordoned

cogs in massive machinations

of meaningless things

We may have been told

we don’t deserve more

That if we’re lucky we’ll have

a few loves in our life

which we can string as charms

along our chains

and limp from year to year

between the times our loves have shined

But look what we can have!

Look how love dissolves

all the expectations

Look how it fills us

and teaches us

We need more than survival

We need this love

that has filled us once

to now be here constantly

We need it to spread

like a flash flood

till it redefines everything

All landscapes now filled

with its presence.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 15, 2011

Prisons

Posted on December 13, 2011 by Wendy

The door’s loud clank signifies

the guard has unlocked it

I can push through it

and walk in

Each permission

parsimoniously meted:

If not expressly granted,

it is prohibited.

But this is just

the most tangible form

of so many prisons

So many gated runs

we are herded through

Here is my trick:

I won’t fight against these bars

or any others

I will quietly slip out this way:

I will let my spirit fill

until I know

All of me is Spirit

and so I am (materially)

Uncontainable

Unconstrainible

I will not ask

what I am permitted to do or be

I will let who I am

(all Spirit)

do the defining of me

So, easily,

will I be free.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 12, 2011

Freedom

Posted on December 7, 2011 by Wendy

My sovereign soul

Now steps clear

of all restrictions

Everything that might constrain connection

Any sense of bowing

to dictators of repression

who claim to grant permission

and sanction all my actions —

They have no more traction,
engender no reaction.

So I can be

the one who is needed now

I can see

the thing you are asking for

And I can give forth

from my own authority

that which you’re needing

that which belongs to me
steadfast integrity
homing insistently
daily delivering

Soul-garnered freedom.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 6, 2011

Fight Mode

Posted on December 5, 2011 by Wendy

I am called to fight

Roused to fierce defense

Shaking the bland shroud

that duped me for so long
that said, you are free—see?

You’re free to choose

and you (collectively) have chosen

to step on the heads of others

while running this ugly treadmill

You have chosen

to buy what you want

for the low cost of your souls

and let the land be raped

just so you wouldn’t know.

No! I did not choose this

and no I do not want this

and no I will not let you take

my supple soul.

So I stand

Centered, wary

Charged by a line of power

Pulling an ancient strength

Down through the lines of life

Star-started DNA

Holding me steady

Source-aligned thunder

Clearly aimed, ready

I have been wakened to see through the sham

I will defend us with all that I am.

December 4, 2011

Free

Posted on November 30, 2011 by Wendy

Here’s a possibility —

A space a box creates

by enclosing it

(corners like elbows

pushing out to make room)

Here’s a possibility:

We could be free.

Free is something

I have maybe never been

Though we are told we are

We’re also told there’s no free lunch

So there you go.

We are not free if we are bought

We are not free if we must buy our right to be

with work on tasks we wouldn’t choose

on projects that don’t serve us.

Here is a thought:

If I’m enslaved,

It’s my own mind that chains me

That tells me things must be this way

That I don’t have a choice

That I should never deign to think

that I deserve to choose my work,

To own my gift.

Here’s a possibility:

A whisper in a little box —

The box could grow until

it can contain us all

and we can learn

our freedom.

November 29, 2011

You Can’t Evict An Idea Whose Time Has Come

Posted on November 16, 2011 by Wendy

“You can’t evict an idea whose time has come.”

-OWS protestors

You can’t evict

An idea whose time has come

I can’t go back to believing

We should never expect

Goodness for its own sake

Goodness without a price tag.

I can’t go back to believing

The highest virtue is

Not making a fuss

Not causing trouble

Moving along with the flow of traffic

In no one’s way . . .

Moving from my own truth

May be messy

May be terrifying

But is exhilarating enough that, no

I won’t go back into my box.

November 15, 2011

Earth Whispering Press

Poetry, ideas, inspiration

Tag Archives: revolution

Revolution

Baubles

No

Perspective

More than survival

Prisons

Freedom

Fight Mode

Free

You Can’t Evict An Idea Whose Time Has Come

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