Life has its own plans,
so they say,
squirrel in the hawthorn
bobbing the ends of branches
as the dark day prepares
to roll toward darker
and the old man,
not amenable to our schedule,
still sits at the table with his tea,
not drinking much,
though the clock ticks
and the hands circle round
I may turn frequently
in my seat,
looking for the next thing,
but life is right here
working out its own design.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 12, 2017
Thoughts play in mind
like small flames
traveling along the kindling
leaving crumbling sticks behind,
licking onward to the next log
I am struck
with the abundance of fuel
and the warmth that comes
in the consideration
of the vastness of the truth
that contains our being,
the infinity of Life
in which we play.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 11, 2017
Mat of roots at water’s edge,
persistent wind blowing
damp and gray,
steely sparkles from sun
mostly obscured by clouds,
hope seeping up into the day
We’ll take this time of change,
we’ll sink our teeth into it —
no point in trying to hide from it,
no point in getting lost
in the drift
We can have guidance,
we can be lifted —
this doesn’t have to be
all about falling.
There can be health.
There can be
finding the way.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 10, 2017
More than anything —
more than acceptance,
more than approval,
more than a celebrated place
among the ones who set the scenes,
more than owning all my space and time,
I want to hear the voice of truth within
Because even though at first
it seems a tiny hairline crack,
barely enough
to be seen in darkness,
it quickly opens
and proves to be everything —
turning the whole scene inside out,
filling my world with light.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 9, 2017
We can be an oasis,
we can offer home —
we have these places,
we have the path
down which we’ve come,
we have these graces
and there’s no need to be alone —
after all, we are designed
to weave together
There are particulars
that we can’t know before we try
but as with anything
it takes some jumping off to fly —
as for our wings,
maybe their need to stretch is why
and they’ll be urging us
out to the edge forever.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 7, 2017
The wind is periodically
throwing little handfuls
of what might be rain
against the skylight
The weather is welcome,
even after yesterday’s
almost impossibly round
full moon, and its light
through the windows,
through the night
Today fall has swung wilder
with the excitement
of turning leaves and tossing wind,
sun coming and going,
clouds darkening patches of sky
Now at night
we are grateful for heat
and being inside
and having had some good strides
through the dramatic day.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 6, 2017
I was asking you to go
to that still point
where there was no argument,
where the raging anguish
that roared at the surface
was unheard,
where the tumbling waves above
could only relay
a small tremor,
just at your heel
I felt like instead
I was just shouting
against the din,
so I considered:
my tiny voice
will never be
the still small one
that moves the mountains
but you have a voice within
and it is speaking.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 5, 2017
In order to take off,
thought needed
a bit more of a runway,
enough space between the tasks
to gain continuous speed,
(the weight of thought being
ponderous as it is)
In order to be caught
thought needed to soar first,
far enough that its arc of sparks
could be seen
That was the story, at least,
that was told
to account for the silence —
thought, of course,
made the whole thing up.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 4, 2017
We take our small and steady steps,
we lose whole crops, we gain
(belated) diligence,
we come around again,
we reap our tiny harvests
and we prepare
for bolder steps ahead
In truth, it isn’t absence
that teaches presence,
nor does avoidance teach precision —
the confidence of mastery
is not learned through timidity
but boldness will bring forth
more of the same
Fill us, then, with presence,
let us be enchanted
with the strength and certainty
of our stroke,
let us live the boldness
of knowing who we are,
let us walk securely in our hope.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 3, 2017
The moon throws shadows
on the house walls
as we sit in chairs in the front yard,
and talk of people in our past
and wonder
about old and present currents
of connection
There were other things during our walk —
teenage angst and what occasioned it,
how a cycle of oppression can be broken
and how the past itself can be reworked
More than the thoughts expressed,
the paths through which they traveled,
the rooms they’ve opened up
in each other’s minds
have left me feeling warm towards you
within the promise
of dwelling there in coziness together.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 2, 2017