We watched the fog
come in over the hills
and then swallow them.
We saw how it banked around
to fill the valley in. It took the fields,
but not the closest trees,
and then, itself, was swallowed by the dark.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 17, 2023
Help me to tell
a story of beauty
pointing a path of patterns
We could follow this one
and it might teach us
a generous weaving
We might learn a way to be together
better than the one we fell into
(projections of someone’s fears)
If given the first step,
we could follow it out.
If given the whole image,
we would glow
right here where we are
We would be the way and the light,
we could join hands
and walk out together.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 16, 2023
Last light across the field,
glory again revealed –
day by day we wend our way
toward gracious
What we see outside, within,
unveiled across the hours,
across the years –
the opportunity to see it glow with grace
in every beat of presence
steadily appears
Where we are now, partially unformed,
we’re still beloved –
this early space where things seem messy
still reveals the lovely stuff we’re made of,
and shows the processes whereby
we rise to meet what loves us,
always welcome,
always welcomed home.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 15, 2023
Windows open,
doors open,
thought opens, and with it,
possibility
There is no chasm
between desire and its fulfillment,
however much we’ve heard there is,
there’s no obstruction
between Spirit and its action,
between intelligence and its ideas
And therefore
we will see the opening
of all the pathways,
we’ll see them traveled,
we’ll see them thrive,
we’ll see the hoping
rise overflowing
as fondest visions
emerge alive.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2023
I stand beside, with,
along, along – the verticality
extends above, beneath,
with no end I can see,
an estimation of infinity
I touch the current,
above, behind my shoulder,
reach as for a subway strap,
step back into it, and race
up and down and up
within the current
And now define myself as this,
see that the story
of small unlikely glints of glory,
peaking through a mostly mindless structure,
was never what defined me
No. This is where I understand
everything about myself –
size and shape and purpose,
sphere of harmony,
ribbon of peace.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 11, 2023
Look – look at our world,
and tell me, what’s not possible?
Can it really be possible
for us to wallow
in casual cruelty? Unwittingly
acquiesce to unmitigated horror?
Is it possible we would allow ourselves
to randomly give up our power
to those who use it
for the demise of all?
Look at the dawn, look at the field
when the fog lifts, and the sun
greets golden leaves of autumn trees.
Look at our hearts, and recognize
what’s possible.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 10, 2023
A tub full of failure
considered in the evening hours
is just a story about me,
one I can kick off,
climb out of,
let down the drain
My creator does not
demand reform of me,
but only that I come to myself,
only that I let Love’s truth
be what it’s always been for me.
I don’t even need to let go –
what I was clinging to dissolves
like dream into the day.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 9, 2023
Take away a layer,
a layer, a layer
Move through a veil,
a veil, a veil
And what you find is more,
not less. In leaving husks behind,
you find the juice, the pulse,
the flavor,
the quickening, the rush,
the reason
It’s not a sacrifice
to give up what hides,
what dulls –
to take up life
in the full flow of desire,
to drink the pure purpose
No need to wait
for false views to erode,
when you can just go in
and find the truth.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 8, 2023
Moments can come so clear –
light over the hills, between the rain,
sudden declaration of love’s presence
after the dream of dark times
So I see I have a choice,
and why would I ever
choose anything but love?
Why would I scribble dark marks
across the page of what I see,
what I tally, what I hold in thought?
Sunlight dances out of the shadows,
love slips in between complaint
and offers softness.
Light is what we see,
and love is what we know.
Within us all is power
to make it so.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 6, 2023
A peaceful evening,
and strains of immortality,
in song and image,
gather round me
Much there is to reconsider –
all the nets I used to try to weave,
fall apart, unable to enclose
the substance I am finding here
So I proceed in hushed stillness,
keep letting fall my former definitions,
endeavor to embody this new knowing
that shows us infinite, at one, and free.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2023