Imagine

What if we discovered
we’d been, all this time,
strung up in nets,
our juices harnessed
to do things we would always sense
were sideways to our desires,
so that we felt the shadow
of regret, of disappointment
dogging our every act

If we should learn
this is not our purpose,
this is not our true companion –
we are not designed
to do things that always
cause somebody pain

If we could feel
our energies released
from those old nets,
slipping through like bars of light,
gaining strength and brightness
with their freedom

What joy, what power
we would wield! slicing away
everything unmerciful, unkind,
gathering the clan of all of us
into our rightful, foreordained design.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 7, 2017

Homing

And in the evening
I find myself desiring
the close-winged flutter
of gathering —
families and clans
home to roost,
home to the weighted warmth
of bodies who belong together,
long flights notwithstanding,
distances of years and thought
falling off
with the shrug of feathers
and the nestling in,
warm throughout the night.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2017

Grieving for Humanity

My facile answers have turned sour,
my tissue-paper wings
discolored and then melted in the rain,
sad framework of support now holding nothing

I should recognize this path by now —
enough times I’ve skipped blithely down it
pretending not to see the looming overcast
or how bravado sidled in
to prop up failing confidence,
coming to this place —
cold lumps of despair,
nowhere to fall to

Slim threads of light return
as I remember
this is no task for me
to shoulder on my own

Given a moment of stillness,
grace returns,
an element I never could concoct,
a lifeline I can hold to.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 4, 2017

Unbowed

I’m going to tell you some things
that get down to the deepest
level of thought,
the place where cause and effect
are calculated, the place where,
regardless of the words you tell yourself,
you make decisions of your heart and movement

(What you believe, you see,
cannot be seen by what you say —
what you believe is shown
by what you do)

Down here, you’ll see
the bargains that you made
along the way,
the things against yourself
that you agreed to
because you thought
you had no other choice

I’m telling you now:
you can let these go
when you see they haven’t served you
and have never even
given you anything

You can let them go
when you see yourself
standing in your native stature,
undiminished and unbowed.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2017

Morning Prayer

Pick me up gently,
set me straight,
remind me where I come from,
where I’m going,
not a robot, banging head
against the wall,
time and again
confounded by a corner

You set my face
towards the wide spaces
where the sun summons
the morning mist
and slowly melts it off,
rolling out brightness,
rolling out blue

And all the angles I was worrying
dissolve — there are no corners here —
just the day,
the love-sourced day.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 30, 2017

After the End

We move off from the place of focus
like crowds dispersing when the show is done —
our thoughts linger, wander, mill,
look for some remaining meaning

There are things we take with us
like small gifts tucked in pockets
to look at later in a quiet moment

Not sure what to do next
we feel the lightness
and the layered weight
of what we witnessed,
what we learned

All the while our love
moves into the spaces
ready to show us
as we emerge
how to make sense of it all.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 28, 2017

Vigil

 

It seems right and appropriate
to drop everything for vigil
but on the fifth day
(or the eighth, by some counts)
the waiting seems interminable
and the tasks that wait at home —
cooking beans, paying bills —
seem suddenly attractive
as does, in general,
having something to do
besides waiting

I seem to have forgotten
there is more to it —
holding space,
being doula
for the transfer of the mantle
from father to son,
peace settling on all shoulders . . .

©Wendy Mulhern
October 27, 2017

Last goodbye before the end

We might have wished our children
no pain, but each emotion is a gift
and the fact that they can feel
is testament to who they are

If they can cry
the garden of their life will bloom,
they will have
bright shining after rain,
they will have
deep canyons where their love
carved out spaces
for winds of compassion
to sing through

They will have birds nesting
and creeks running,
frogs and fish and mayflies —
they will have true life,
they will know joy.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 26, 2017

Bone

Down close to the bone
the things that so distracted us
are gone — the posturing,
the quid pro quo, the stature earned,
the balance due

And the essential fluids —
the love, the tears, the blood connection,
run near the surface. We forget
what we were thinking about,
caught up in the current,
dopplered in the moments
as time stretches out,
the silence at end of day
echoing back,
drawing us
into its close circle.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 25, 2017