Tag Archives: story

Today’s Work

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Well, it will probably be
like other times. I pull the bell
and wait for the arrival
of the magic zip line ride.

Like other times, I’ll probably
wait a while. Sit down,
kick at little rocks, notice
ferns and moss,
look up at every sound, hoping to see
a little carriage trundling down the line.

And probably after a while
(like other times)
I’ll get up and start
to pick my way down
through the brush
and the steep slides of the ravine
to the other side,
and climb the hill myself.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 27, 2014

Almost Napping

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In my not quite dreaming state
I felt like another person,
someone who was sleeping on my other side,
someone who had another stairway,
chocolate colored, smooth like pudding,
that she could climb
to another story.

The draft on my back
that kept me awake
also made me feel alive —
small bursts of excitement
at possibilities of places to fly,
people to be,
buzzing through my shifting sense of self . . .

My daily window of belief —
How small it is!
How infinite the plane
in which my life can play!

©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2014

True Words

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It seemed she had forgotten them,
the way they fell, in random pattern
like raindrops shaken
from a branch
into a pond
(the ripples moving out silently
to intersect noiselessly,
patterns of expanding circles
enveloping each other)

They seemed to fall without intent,
and yet,
in the moments following,
the melody they made
(repeating and inverting,
echoing and spreading)
kept on reverberating
till their meaning
and their message
had made themselves
indelibly clear.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2014

Catching Up

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It felt good
to sit on the deck
weaving stories out of memory and light,
while the fog thinned
and hummingbirds chipped and whirred
through the old cherry tree.

It felt good
to finish the edges of that yarn —
to see it whole,
and then to come inside
for tea and conversation
(our voices calibrated
so as not to wake the sleepers)
morning rolling towards noon,
while steller’s jays
riled the little birds
and colors glowed brighter
against the clearing sky.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 18, 2013


Preparation

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There are so many ways
this whole dream could end
that I’ve gone beyond worrying.
In the end, I have to take my stand,
have to be unmoved,
uncowed by all the threats,
because life is like that, I guess —
Seedlings make their stands
on impossible outcroppings.
Sometimes they grow anyway,
into big trees.

If everything changes
I will still 
do what seems best at the time,
still fight for life and love,
still be
whatever it is I am.
So my best preparation
is to know what that is
and live it,
fearlessly, fiercely,
with all my heart.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 16, 2013


Casting

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We may love stories
but stories are not our home —
We will feel trapped
if cast in roles
as archetype, as foil,
as heroine, as villain —
We are made to move 
within a larger sphere.

Since I don’t want to be
a character in someone else’s story,
let me refrain from casting others
and let me dwell in no narrative,
place no significance
on the deposit of dialog,
the layered development of events.

This day’s assertion of itself
needs no story,
just my steady attention,
no arcane analysis,
just my love.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 11, 2013


State of the Union

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Traversing once again
the thoughtscapes
we have created
and called the world,
I see so many fractured structures,
so many castles
that clearly are pretend,
the fabrications
of such manipulations
that what I find most hard to understand
is how we ever thought they’d hold our weight.

But wait —
Even now they are shifting
more clearly into dream
and we are still standing,
yet not on nothing,
So there must be 
(and must have always been)
something here that holds us up,
some essential structure
that is not broken
and will sustain us still
when everything falls down.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 5, 2013


Like a Mocha

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Beneath the froth of stories
is the thick, rich liquid,
hot and satisfying,
that is my reason
to sip this drink of you.
In the dark converging
of all that’s potent,
I take you in.
I wanted to get to this point,
held my lips closed
to keep out the superfluous,
to feel the rush of you
come up from underneath.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 4, 2013


Tapestry

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The threads that make our story
have passed through many warps
before they came through us.
They came from richly colored skeins,
were mixed with others
in their pathway through the loom.
They rendered skies, they rendered sun,
they rendered trees,
and many ancestors 
before depicting you and me.
We are not separate.
Every strand of us is also part
of everything that’s been before.
Their colors sing through us,
Their memories live in our bones,
We join with them in chorus.
We never walk alone.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 29, 2013


Mind and Heart

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It’s said the mind can’t solve its own snarls —
A pro at spinning yarns, it is too linear
to see beyond the knotted interweavings —
that, though it flows with ease
through many convolutions,
it’s too invested in the string
to let the tangle go.

Have a heart!
It doesn’t really matter
who said what, who did what, and why —
(Wait — that’s still the mind speaking)

The heart says,
Hush —
Your wisdom and your love
are strong enough to ensure
that every actor in this story
get full due,
be wrapped up in the care
compelling them to thrive
as the wonderful creations that they are.

The heart says,
Sink deeper
into these infinite arms
that ever hold you up.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 28, 2013