Author Archives: Wendy

Rebar

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My thumbs have been
deeply in opposition
in the twisting of rebar wire,
or so they complain
now that I have paused

It was pleasant up at the site —
goldfinches delighting in thistle,
gentle breeze cooling,
officious yellow jackets notwithstanding,
buzzing where they had no right to be

And it feels good to train my hands
in skills essential now and maybe useful later —
they may protest, but I insist
that they be strengthened,
whether or not this work
is what the scripture meant.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 16, 2018

One Life

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One life is enough —
its redemption encompasses
all experience, the heights and depths
of all that can be known

One life is enough —
no life is wasted,
none insignificant

Every life is worth
breaking the bubble
in which it has been held,
releasing it to free fall
till it can open its wings
to navigate infinity.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 15, 2018

So On Earth

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I hesitate to put my whole weight
down on the answer,
not wanting, once again,
to feel the setback,
not, once again, to feel the back seep
of misplaced hope,
the backward look confirming
I never really launched

I hesitate, but heaven’s traces
do proclaim themselves around me.
There is goodness
everywhere there is thought.
Let me look forward,
let me be overwhelmed by evidence,
as has been promised,
as in heaven, so on earth.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 14, 2018

Sleepless

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In the depths of night
when I’m not sleeping,
when I’m praying
and it’s too dark to see anything
except night sky between dark branches
and there’s really no place to go,
no place to be but here

Let there be light —
let there be something more tangible
than my firm conviction and strong hope —
let them find confirmation at dawn,
let my life embody this truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 13, 2018

Speed Limit 5 mph

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You are here —
please notice
the colors in the grass
and the way the air is moving

There may be swallows darting
and deer walking and watching,
there probably are turkeys

You may be headed somewhere
but you are also here —
please fill your senses
and let your heart breathe.
You are here —
please go slow and notice.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 12, 2018

As in heaven

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All is given
in earth as in heaven,
change and foundation,
challenge and haven

Earth is not helpless —
the law that permeates
presence and consciousness
holds her as well

Strong winds don’t bow
to the whims of man
but they go as directed
by all-knowing hands

Let me be filled
with all-moving Spirit
where all is forgiven
in earth as in heaven.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 10, 2018

Smoke Days

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Hot smoky wind
brings news of distant fires,
baking sun peers through the haze,
only slightly softened

Trees reach deep for liquid,
we, too, sustain ourselves
with deep cool water from our well.
Turkeys wander through the woods
undisturbed by heat and smoke.
What changes will we weather?
What weather will we change?

©Wendy Mulhern
August 9, 2018

Still talking to Heather

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Here is a thing that is beautiful:
your life, and what it proved,
what it establishes, even now —
that no one ever has to think
their presence is expendable,
their friendship unneeded
or unwanted

You are here
with your ready hug
and your deep empathy,
and you have showed us
that no one needs to wait to love
and no one has to wait
to be beloved

So we go back along the weaving of a life,
the places in the past where strands have tangled,
we pick them up and lay them back in place
gently and deftly, as your hands always moved

We set things right
all along the years,
we feel in doing this
that you are here.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2018

Advice to Myself

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Tuck your feet up,
feel the wind lift your wings —
you don’t want to be caught
in the stories beneath

Height brings perspective
and sights that unsettle —
ways you have been
that you wish that you hadn’t

Pump your wings hard,
hold your feet up from dragging —
no need to founder
in floods of regret

What matters now
is the course you are flying —
you will have time
to redeem yourself yet.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 6, 2018

Here in Marcola

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On the Lord’s Day
(after church)
apparently
it is the custom to go out
and shoot at things —
we hear the sharp report
across the hills

It must fit in
to the same leisure
of wind chimes
and great trees waving graceful limbs,
it must be part
of insect hum
and the bright chatter
of extended family visits.
We may get used to it at length,
this signature sound
of Sunday afternoons.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 5, 2018