Tag Archives: story

Dried Pea Wars

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calipoeia

Truth is too big
to have a brand,
Truth is too big
to be packaged.
Truth is far bigger
than any versus — mine vs. yours,
ours vs. theirs

Every sense of truth
that wars against another’s
is like a small person
throwing dried peas
against a window —
the insignificant ptick ptick
will have no impact

There will be no time even
to call them to justice —
They will be swept away
like so much flotsam

And the clean rush
of the Truth that is One
will cover everything —
that will be enough.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 1, 2015

Intermission

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Heather and Edward2

There is a pause in the story.
In the brighter lights, the moving
and talking in between,
there may be speculation
of next plot twists, of characters,
performances

We will go back in,
we will go down under
to be swept along by the spell
but for now
we will stretch our legs
and take in the crisp fall air
and remember
that whatever happens in the story,
we’ll come out here.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 3, 2015

Storymongers

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richmond beach small waves

The incident is immediately
thronged by storymongers,
elbowing each other for your time

Some offer blame,
some offer quests,
some offer juicy roles —
the martyr, the oppressed

Any one will take you
down a convoluted path,
offering light
just around the next corner

Some may offer softer rides,
some may promise more intense life lessons,
Each of them will swear
they are the only way,
None of them, however, will deliver

The one thing that can give you what you need
gives it quite clear — apparent from the start —
the cleansing waves of light across your brow,
the steady flow of truth into your heart

Stay open, and resist the stories,
urgent and compelling though they seem —
Hold out instead for comprehensive vision
and rise, thereby awakened from the dream.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 26, 2015

Squiggle

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flying sky

I search for inspiration
and see the bright image squiggle,
naked as a sunbeam,
upward and out of grasp

except my mind
is its medium,
so it can’t escape —
it can only
open out my sight
to where I see it
blending like heat rising,
releasing its radiance
into a greater shimmer,
bringing me there with it,
breathing the broad freedom
of communion.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 23, 2015

Stripes

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stripes

I stepped into a long dark stripe
where it seems to have been
a lonely journey
down the shadowed canyons of my thought,
along the ever-stretching landscape
where I have held myself
trimmed to the wind of years,
beating my course
in its ragged tacks,
undercurrents pulling me sideways
as I strive to bring myself
to the place where I can see progress

It’s a wearying perspective,
not one in which I choose to stay for long —
sun stripes, too, can make their mark
across my vision.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 5, 2015

Divisions

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richmond driftwood2

Some of these lines
were drawn a long time ago
and which side you were on —
bumbling, refined,
golden-crowned, pariah,
may or may not still hold sway
within your mind

I’ve been surprised at times
to see how little difference
they have made
along the longitude of lives —
ways I’ve shined anyway
(despite predictions),
ways I’ve failed to thrive
(despite achievements)

Some of these lines
are drawn daily
in the shifting sands of internet
and in our thoughts —
benighted or enlightened,
savvy or snookered, blessed or damned

They could criss-cross us
into tiny boxes,
or perhaps we’ll see
there are so many that they cancel out
and we’re just standing,
feeling alone but really
right next to each other
on the ever-tousled but resilient shore.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 3, 2015

My Gift

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Edward on ladder

In the clutter of the stories
I’m prone to tell myself,
there is danger of getting lost

This time I check myself
against the gravity
of how this offering
will feel to you

I check its underside
for hints of instruction
(which might imply
I thought you needed change)
I check to see if its assertions
are made from wish fulfillment
on my part

Nothing but my pure love
is worthy of you.
Nothing but my pure love
is worthy of me.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 2, 2015

This light

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spring elm

This light
doesn’t need a story —
doesn’t need reasons why it shines,
doesn’t have things that could put it out

The stories about it —
what it requires to keep on shining,
how just a few tweaks could make it much brighter,
how it’s some rare gift for which I’m most lucky
are not true

This light
may shine through stories
but can’t be captured by them.
They can illustrate it
but not snuff it out
And if I follow it
to where it springs from,
I’ll never lose my way again.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 13, 2015

Authorship

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redemption

Well, here’s the story of redemption:

You are redeemed, for you are here.
It takes attention
to choose you for a story,
to put you in,
to hedge about your life
with these meticulous details,
to give you motives,
give you a past,
give you this burning hope
that somehow
your life has worth and purpose:
It takes an overarching care
to author you. And look —
you’re here.

Know, too, that there’s no character
the author doesn’t love.
It is the way of things —
the way creation works:
The act of care that thinks you up
(pulls you, as her child,
right out of her head)
is always an act of love.

So have no fear.
You are redeemed
and always have been.
Just look inside yourself to see —
You’ll know.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 10, 2015

Solace and Comfort

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lower stream

Ah, we pin our hopes on each other,
we reach out our hands
as if two bodies in free fall
could hold each other up

We will give solace
and we will receive comfort
but not from here —

Not where we set up the slate of conditions,
the changes required, the needs to be met,
Not in the stories that cast us so poignantly
into the dramas that make people cry

We will give solace
and receive comfort
here in the consciousness
deeper than stories,
where everyone wants the same thing —
A thing whose abundance
is never diminished,
a source whose beneficence
comforts us all.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2015