I’m finding the devil useful —
someone to blame
for every unkind thought,
for fear, resentment,
and the harsh voices
that want to judge
my every action,
and those of others
I’m finding it useful
to shift the blame
from anyone real
to something that can’t exist,
thereby revealing
how sweet and fresh and beautiful
everything truly is.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 11, 2019
photo by Audrey Ruhland
The journey is to great for me —
I am brought, once again,
to my knees,
I have wrung myself out
and hung myself to dry
and will be slowly converted
as with soft wind blowing through,
the song and sun between the trees
I will be won over
by blessings which must be just here,
though I don’t see them yet,
and will stand forth strong again
after a while,
rested by my ride.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 10, 2019
Well, here we are.
We seem to have
spiraled down
into this little pool
in which it is not clear
how we’ll ever move again,
how we will get up
and take care of ourselves
and do the work tomorrow calls for
This rain and the warm air
hold us in slow motion
though at this point
we are not moving at all —
tomorrow may bring
a clearer direction
to lift us up out of this stall.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 9, 2019
Today I offer you the only good that is,
the good that is One, the good that is All
Today I offer you
the good that has no terror in it,
no separation, no conditions —
the good that is right here,
not held at arm’s length
for you to leap for and be laughed at,
the good that you could never fail
to breathe in, to embody
Today I offer you
the good that has no dark side,
that spreads its loving touch
to every entity — that makes them melt
in love, in joy, in grateful strong surrender,
and no one is a horrible example,
for all are needed in the true design
Today I offer you
the good that changes history,
replacing blame, regret, remorse
with sweet returning green,
with fragrance and with flowering,
the growth circle of being.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 8, 2019
We call it home —
many other beings
call it home, too —
we find our place,
we make our peace,
we settle in
and start to know our neighbors
We make it home —
many other beings
make it home, too —
we make our place,
we find our peace,
we all are here
in concert with each other
We find it fine —
many other beings
find it fine, too —
we make our place,
we call our peace,
here in the verb
of work and living
the beaded strand of jeweled days.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 7, 2019
photo by Audrey Ruhland
The power within
doesn’t need instruction
any more than water does,
welling up and lifting
whatever rides upon it,
flowing out and gathering,
tumbling brightly down
The power within
is not obstructed
by any circumstance or story —
it rises up
and becomes what you are knowing,
it cascades forth,
becoming what you are.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2019
photo by Audrey Ruhland
They wake up to fearlessness
amazed by the weight of it,
or is it weightlessness?
— subtle perfection of balance
allowing their hands
to move with precision
accomplishing everything deftly
They wake up to fearlessness
awed by the sound of it,
or is it silence? — the absence
of voices predicting their downfall,
the chorus of joy at their presence
They wake up to fearlessness
one more time — they imagine
never forgetting again
the full-hearted peace
where no demons can even
occur to them — everything given
to bliss.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 3, 2019
Though I may not know
in the eternal scheme of things
just what you are to me,
I can say
you are more than my calculus problem,
more than my ongoing test,
more than the mirror
it’s taken me too many years
to recognize as such
We hold each other up
in undetected ways —
perhaps we each receive
direction, motivation,
perhaps we are encouraged
and in our different vectors, strengthened
by each other.
I may be vine
to your trellis,
you may be
bird to my tree.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 2, 2019
This can be a space of
leaning into you,
of being quiet,
taking our tone
from the softness of the day,
its cloudiness, mist hanging
in the trees,
evening seeming to come sooner
Feelings can rise like mist
and sit in mind
like low clouds —
we won’t do anything about them
except lean in for comfort,
lean in for support.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 1, 2019
I sat still
so I could
consider the angel —
that rift of my daily perception,
that tearing away
of the predetermined
course of things
(the slowly wilting fading picture
with all its hopes diminishing,
its outcome possibly horrific
or ultimately, in the best case,
sad)
The angel was like
a ripping of that scene in two,
revealing, where the picture was,
a vast expanse,
a light above the sun
I had to stop,
for everything is different,
have to watch
to see how I’ll be led.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2019