We hope our kindness
will be felt by the land,
the trees we plant,
the soil we tend,
we hope it will respond
with life that springs forth bountiful
We hope the land will teach us
the kind of kindness
that makes things grow —
fledgling efforts strengthened,
courage built, endurance lengthened,
everything that had been tentative
standing forth to claim its place
in the blessed rhythm of the day.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 23, 2019
Can my prayer
be anything but constant?
Are there other things to think about
than Mind’s omniscient action?
or other things to feel
than Soul’s uplifting?
Are there other things to do
than Life’s unfolding,
or any other place I’d want to be?
I used to think it sounded dull
to never leave the temple,
but now I’ve been there
and glimpsed the size of it.
It’s everything, really,
and everywhere there is,
and I am happy
to go no more out.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 21, 2019
When you talk to the baby trees
before and as you plant them,
I hear your boy heart
pure and clear as blackbird song,
unmasked and frank,
strong in its innocence
I know its power in you
is like a tree core —
able to root down deep
and send shoots soaring
higher than anyone ever thought was possible,
high as hope, as love, as sky.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 20, 2019
Here is my gentle surrender:
release of the constant instructions,
permission to trust that my being
doesn’t depend on my getting it right
Here is my tender surrender:
escape from the concept of consequence,
knowing my hope and my joy to be held
safe in the fact of my Love
Here is my centered surrender,
faithfully placed in the hands of my Truth,
flying in effortless calm,
borne by the infinite cause.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 18, 2019
As fear recedes
we find we are able to relax
into the moves of the moment,
the rhythm of work
and the easy logic of decisions
We can’t help but notice
this is how we were made to be —
free and generous of movement,
open-eyed, fair-minded, strong,
serving life by living,
living true.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 17, 2019
And if your refuge fails you
or if it says you’ve failed
and thus cannot avail yourself of safety
Or if your refuge
is put in question
by someone else’s sense of truth
Or if the solace it provides
has grayed, has faded,
has been rendered hollow
Don’t be afraid.
For even as your demons rage
and push you towards the center,
as the edges crumble
and your space grows smaller
You are already redeemed.
You were delivered
even before the dawning of your first day.
Your substance is secure,
your realm is infinite —
you need no refuge,
for you own your grace.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 15, 2019
We find the day
right back here where we left it —
it has opened out while we were gone,
the fulness of its breath lifting us
into the company of other days,
expansive and broadening,
rich with experience and memory
We are ushered, thus,
into the company of
all that lives in rhythm with the land —
trees and ravens,
grass and ladybugs,
water and all its courses
and that songbird
whose music so instantly
fills our hearts.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 14, 2019
I will trust you to be there
in the morning, after the washing clear
of all the wear lines of the day,
after dreams have danced in water-like dimension
through the fluidity that wipes it all away
Somewhere in that time
well before sunrise,
when we awake and start
our pre-departure gatherings,
I trust that you will tuck yourself
like hope, into some pocket,
to lift me, later on,
to be my dawn.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 13, 2019
And if, today, I offered refuge,
and if, in any way, it was received,
if I spoke truth about a living comfort
and if, at least in part, it was believed
Then I, too, can ride along the lift lines,
I, too, can share the haloed glow —
the gift of refuge, offered freely, will afford me
peace I otherwise might never know.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 12, 2019
We started to feel underwater
though it was just under rain —
under rain, and under tears,
under memories, and under
the warp of time
We tried to speak
but our words were garbled,
bubbles rising up,
purpose having floated off
somewhere else
We couldn’t hold ourselves to anything,
couldn’t stay grounded,
couldn’t fly up to the surface for air
Our only hope
was to close our eyes for long enough
that when we opened them
the whole strange scene would be gone.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 11, 2019