In this vision,
the antelopes are tuned
into existence,
huge waves of them
rolling in and out of
atmospheric haze,
keenly aware of their
sharp pounding against the ground
in the rolling rhythm of multitude
and the strong smell of each other
and the heat and dust
and the surging imperative importance
of life, this now
in which they run.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2014
Twice today I finished typing
and hit the “send” button,
and noticed that my heart was sounding
that homing drum,
that turning thump
that signified
travel to altered states,
passage through some narrow place,
(speed-squeezed along the airfoil,
pulled through the lift
of the attenuated pressure)
the re-emerging into normal day
requiring decompression,
proof that I had touched the table
of some deep-lying truth.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 10, 2014
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
In the sudden awareness