Author Archives: Wendy

We Could Be Happy

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We could be happy. I cried
as I thought of this,
so far removed it was
from what I’d told myself was possible

Oh, I had joy. Joy of the wilderness,
the upward trail, the bracing day,
joy of the stream of life
given every day by my Creator

After all this time of self reliance,
it was overwhelming to consider
that the gifts my Creator gives
include even more,
and we could be happy —
you and me together,
and others too —

We could be happy —
this, too,
is my Creator’s will.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 8, 2019

Everyday Epiphanies

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You wake up and remember
what you know —
you may have to reach for it,
coming up from dream,
batting back the thoughts
that fall on you
as you break the surface

You may have to spend more time,
may need to diligently focus,
but it comes in — new each morning,
different from yesterday,
full of its own promise

Sometimes it’s a steady fire within,
able to incinerate anything untrue,
sometimes it’s a sunrise seen afar,
overwhelming with its gift of beauty

And sometimes the old lines
of you and me, us and them,
are totally confounded
in the unity of Mind’s purpose,
working out the calculus
of universal good.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 7, 2019

Disabused

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This day has had surprise gifts in it,
just when I’d trained myself
not to expect any. But that,
as it turns out, is today’s humbling —
Life takes me down a peg or two
by offering tangible things
to make me happy,
proving I don’t need to go it alone

And my belief that I did
was making too much of myself —
I needed to be disabused of that presumption.
I can’t say I mind.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 5, 2019

Induction

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I make my way by induction,
as by candle light, long before dawn —

I look, first, for the first reason —
why you would even open your eyes,
why you would care,
why you would rise

I see you couldn’t be there
without the spark, you would be nothing
without desire

And if the spark is present,
it must really be the only thing —
it wouldn’t let itself
be mostly snuffed out

It wouldn’t let itself be used
to power anything unlike itself —
to power dread or burden,
or soul deadening requirements

If the spark is here
then it will dictate joy —
joy, and strength, and vigor —
it will spread the whole day
with sweet harmony,
for so it is, by nature

And if this is what’s here,
I’ll see it. Gently,
modest as the dawn,
radiant as day. I’ll recognize it
in every light that shows the way.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 4, 2019

Always

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There will always be a pause,
because the loud shrieks and clamor
of all that tries to claim power
are not continuous, cannot sustain themselves

They start and stop,
as earthquakes, wind, or fire,
as sobs, as tirades, as things hurled,
and there is always a pause —
a curling up, the empty end of a breath,
the spring uncoiled, the flat repose of shards

And in that silence
still as winter, still as ice,
the crystal music will arise

It fills the whole field instantly,
interlocks the harmony of molecules,
sounds the depth, the space, the peace
that owns the matrix of existence

There always is a pause —
and everyone can find it —
that leads us to our home, infinity.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 3, 2019

Purpose

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I will not look anywhere but here.
Here is the place where focus is possible,
here it can bore to the needed depth.

Things that fly outside may look attractive —
I may think I wish to turn, to sample, find them,
but that kind of skittering, finally
won’t drill down into
what I need to understand

This is something I know within.
It is a deep unarguable truth.
There may be stories told of freedom,
of flying high and wide,
but freedom without purpose
can’t sustain me,
and purpose is what’s mine to find right here.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 2, 2019

Little Window

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And after the thick of the storm,
like a little blue window
amid the clouds rolling and roiling —
a window that may disappear
many times before the clouds clear
and blue displays its winning infinite —

Somewhere before the dark has fully ended,
that blue window of truth
will give you hope,
and the storm’s narrative
will slowly cease to matter,
its irrelevance apparent as it dissipates,
and you can hold on,
for once you’ve seen it,
you won’t believe in darkness anymore.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2019

De-Wimpification

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I spent almost a week
like one of those yard ornaments
with no air blowing through it —
flat on the ground, an odd distortion
to its shape

Today I switched the air back on,
sat up, stood, walked with power,
owned my state

…in which condition
I felt much clearer,
less cold, stronger, and able
to face the day and do what’s needed

It’s good to remember
I have this choice —
it’s not my air
but I can turn it on.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 30, 2019

On Falling

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You can’t fall
into the darkness
because your being
is made of light

No gravity affects it,
and even if it could fall
it would bring its essence with it,
lighting up the way and pushing darkness
ever farther off

You can’t fall into darkness
but we can release
any dark presumptions that have tried
with jagged scribbled lines
to draw a ragged image
on your form

We can let them go
and they’ll fall down,
way, way down
where they don’t even have a story,
far away
where they can trouble you no more.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 29, 2019

Following

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This is not a process of grand arcs,
though grand arcs inform it,
this is the way light falls
on every mote, on every crumble
of the soil, the way it sifts
between the needles,
falls to earth in chinks among the shadows

I cannot accomplish it
in one great sweep —
I follow it along the moments,
let the light seep
into every patch of thought it can redeem,
understand it now and now and now
ever new again along my path.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 28, 2019