Monthly Archives: February 2012

After Healing

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After healing
When the skin is so new
So pink
When the soft breath of every air current
kisses it, wakes it up
You may be cautioned
not to touch the spot too much —
Fresh blood not far below the surface

After healing
When sobs have ceased
And breathing is now smooth
When eyes have cleared
And hope and peace and shifted paradigm
have stilled the turbulence
You may be cautioned to be quiet
Not to think about the story now

And yet the urge to stand up in surprise
To run, to leap, to stretch out that old limb
which for so long had seemed unmovable 
May overcome all prudence
And the joy of feeling
reintegrated
fully woven into the essential fabric
of life
with every movement seamless, rippling
effortless
Will send you soaring
in the all-embracing wave of oneness

And it won’t matter
how new the skin
how recently the tears have ceased
Because the fresh source of your strength
pours in endlessly
and it’s enough
to replace all memory of the ill.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 28, 2012



Weight and Lightness

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Nothing in this world —
Nothing —
Not houses, not credentials
Not webs of friendship —
Has any strength to hold
the steady falling of the heart

They break like spider silk
against its weight
And it will fall right through
until it feels
the centered force of its own gravity
Until it slows
in thoughtful drift
and feels the atmosphere that gathers
meditatively
around its presence

Everything in this world —
Everything —
Each sense of home, each memory
Each smile exchanged —
Has grace to hold
the precious light that shines upon it

Grace to catch that light
and shine it forth
and be illuminated
Light that has no weight
That sits so brightly
on each snow crystal, each
hair of thistle down, each poised hope
that meekly lifts itself
into its own being.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 27, 2012

(background music: Isaac Shepard, “People and Puddles”)

Sinning and Rebuttal

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As I was reading over the poem I wrote today, I thought, huh, I don’t really believe that.  So I wrote a rebuttal.  In the end, I think there’s room for both perspectives:

I. Sinning

If I shoot many arrows
I will miss the mark
far more often
than if I shoot none
So much to learn:
How to align my stance
The arm that holds the bow
The one that draws the arrow back,
My eye . . .
Some of my arrows may not even fly
And some will fall so wide
you couldn’t even tell
which target I had tried
The ones that land in the intended haystack
will be my early victories
and I may hit the target by and by

They say the verb “to sin”
derives from archery
and means “to miss the mark”
Well, let me sin, then
and often
and wildly
Let me fall colossally
if that is what it takes
to live a life that zings
that’s vibrant through and through
If that is what it ultimately takes
to be true.

II. Rebuttal

The sinning poem assumes
That we are separate from grace
And must attain it incrementally
By many times of falling on our face
This is a thing we’ve been so deeply taught
It’s hard to separate it from our thought
Hard to imagine lambency, perfection
Or certainty, or peace, or clear direction
And yet, if once we’ve felt the light arise
That lifts our heart from sorrow into joy
Delivers praise and wonder to our eyes
And liquid harmony into our day
We can believe that even without work
We can stride forth at once and hit the mark.

© Wendy Mulhern
February 25, 2012





Imbolc

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I wrote this poem on a bike ride near the beginning of the month, when an unusually balmy few days appropriately heralded the seasonal return of the light:

Still water of the winter river
Deep moving but surface smooth
Clear reflection with a subtle shimmer
Brown, bare trees thrust into blue
Moon ghost floating in a cloudless sky
Sailing low, so pale, alone
Bikes and skaters glide on by
Through air that’s soft and warm — sun owned
Its scent enticing us to dream, to yearn:
A day to celebrate the light’s return.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 3, 2012



The worth of a life

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What is the worth of a life?
Is there a metric for this?
Consider the sun on the water
The sparkling path
which always presents itself
right where you are:
Each sparkle is for you—
the meeting of light with your eyes—
Though others see sparkles too,
they aren’t the same ones that you view.

What is the worth of a life?
As if you could separate 
One life from all others—
From the sun’s sparkles, isolate one
Take it away from the sun . . .
What is the worth of a life?
There is no measure for this
No way the question can make any sense
It’s worth everything that there is.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 23, 2012

(background music: William Ackerman, “Anne’s Song”

Manifesto II: Tipping

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The old story must
fall away like a husk
for it is too dry
to sustain the living—
those who now stride
into their own

Since there is no place for them 
in the old story—
No job, no niche, not even 
one small joy to suck on,
They will turn
and find their sustenance within
and with each other

And those who managed the old story
may try, once again, to recalibrate—
Give them just enough juice
so they will stay
But it’s too late
The load has tipped:
With a grand whoosh
all the piled up lies
will slide into oblivion
And we will put forth
our new green.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 22, 2012







Enfolding

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I circle in and in, into myself
to find this:
A place where I can hold someone
A way my being may enfold, enwrap them
A place that holds them till
The firm press about them
defines their growing edge 
and they reach outward
hand following hand
body surface rising to meet my touch
As I release
they take flight
I swirl around them
So we dance
This is a thing I need
to do every day;
Thanks for this one
Tomorrow,
Give me the place 
to do it again.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 21, 2012



Walking Wordless

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Your smile is full of light
And isn’t this enough?
Do I even need to know the words—
The actual traces of your conscious thought?
If I asked you, would the things you said
Lead us away from this pure shining
Back along the worn out paths of stress?

In case it would, perhaps it’s best
For us to walk in silence
The smile light still is real
Whatever words line up behind it
And maybe we can find this layer of light
And live our lives along it, never leaving
Never dipping down into the blight
Of all the things we used to think had meaning
Perhaps it’s here that we unite
Not in opinion, not in words agreeing
But in the brightness of our shared delight
The source towards which we all are leaning
I may ask what you’re thinking in a little while
But in this moment, let me keep your smile.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 20, 2012



You have to be grounded to fly

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You have to be grounded to fly
As kites well show—
Resistance from their strings
giving the wind the force
to push them high
Which if released would let them fall
slicing tip-wise 
through the layers of air

You have to be grounded to fly
As birds well know—
as they push off against the gravity
that holds the air that cushions them
Through which they carve their flight
with sharply honed intention
and the slipstream of their glide

You have to be grounded to fly
As planets go
through space, 
their molten centers coalescing force
The silent concentration of their cores
connecting them in orbit to their stars

And so it is with us
Within our deeply grounded center
is born the power that sends us forth
on arcs of soaring splendor.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 19, 2012



The need to be witnessed

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It is not too much to ask
to have someone to take
by the hand
To lead down corridors
of memory, experience, imagination
To say to: look—here’s a picture of me
as a child
And here’s the song that still reminds me
of that summer back in ’78
full of sun and angst and wild escape
And here’s a thing I learned in Italy
along the streets of Florence

It’s not too much to ask
to have someone who keeps
a special box for treasures
tucked in an honored place
inside their mind
to put the things you share
and take them out
and look at them sometimes

And yes, you’ll keep a treasured box
for all the things your friend has shared
You’ll take them out in gratitude
You’ll love them, since you care

No need to strive for some
prescribed degree of fitness
It’s not too much to ask 
to have a witness.


©Wendy Mulhern
February 18, 2012