You may protest
my use of the words “sweet doodeloo”
but I am happy
that you sit with your guitar in hand
and music comes out,
notes coming home
like family,
like lights in the house,
and being together
in the flavor of
one last time
or better
in the flavor of
as it will always be.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 24, 2017
The fact that we’re here to save the world
doesn’t mean we have to be
serious all the time. There’s room
in the moments between
to be droll
There’s enough power here, after all,
that there’s no need to strain or struggle —
there’s room to be silly and soulful,
there’s plenty of space to laugh.
The world will be fine.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 23, 2017
I stand
and let the sense of who I am
slide back behind me,
beyond time, beyond
the anchor of my story
It fills in
like a swath of sparkles
on windy water,
lights me from behind
and moves me
(like lifting up, expanding out)
making room for all of us,
making room for peace.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 22, 2017
We couldn’t believe in darkness
because there is always some light somewhere —
the soft reflection of moonlight,
far stars, and nearer lanterns,
the dream light that dances behind eyes
before and during sleep,
and inevitable morning
that eventually rises
even after the longest night.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 21, 2017
In our ascent through the passage
there is letting go,
there are changes of shape
that let us pass
where we couldn’t have fit before
There is a stretching and a turning,
each move in its needed place and time
that lets us become something different,
something that’s able to make it through.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 20, 2017
Nobody’s life has meaning
except for the shine,
except for the treasure
inherent in each breath,
each moment,
except for the purpose embodied
in the reasonless love,
the unquenched presence,
the truth that is always here.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 19, 2017
No actually
I’d rather take the time
to be holy. This isn’t something
I do for myself. This is something
I allow, the way the land allows the sun
to warm it, the way the air allows the rain
to wash it clean
A long deep breath,
a pause to close my eyes
and let the fullness sink in.
Yes, this is what I’d rather do,
this is what I choose.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 18, 2017
So unfolds this great wonder,
that in surfing the waves
we discover their power
as we discover our own
It unfurls in each moment —
miraculous it feels —
how perfectly the forces come together,
formed and foamed and filled and braided —
what we can do and
what is here most needed
We may feel we only have
a fleeting tolerance
for so much power,
for such exhilaration,
but we will learn
this is the crest of life
and we will ride it
through the whole span of creation.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 17, 2017
The day has pressed its paws
into my lap, claws mostly sheathed,
the insistent kneading
accompanied by soft purr
I have offered my attention
but perhaps was more distracted
than I noticed — maybe didn’t give
the approbation it deserved,
maybe didn’t take in, with enough wonder,
the unparalleled glory of its presence.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 16, 2017
Close to the source
of heat and cold,
close to the source of being —
stars at night, pens that don’t write
as temperatures dip below freezing
_____________________
Whichever direction we stretch
we draw more surely
into the circle of purpose —
we are here to be warm,
we are here to share light
and we are here to be
the great testimony
to joy, and to the insistence of life
on burning ever true,
the flame that glows and grows
and won’t consume.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 15, 2017