Author Archives: Wendy

Light

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light through cottonwood

I see you through the light,
I see the light through you —
we map our courses thus,
our vision sometimes blocked
and sometimes opening

The light is all we know
and all that we can follow,
as darkness offers nothing,
no way to track a course,
no light to see by

And so we move from light to light
though we may hope for something overarching,
some tunneled, end-lit path,
some vast dawn —
it could be coming

It could be even here,
but we must navigate
through the thickets of our suppositions,
persistent in pursuit
of whatever light we see,
edging, thus, towards free
just like everyone.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 7, 2016

My Watch

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Granddad Aug 2016

I stand an easy guard,
I listen as you loop through memories,
time having lost all traction —
you were president of the molder’s union,
your wife was your typist,
your uncle John in Ireland
was a big hit with all the navy hot shots

These are the safe places,
sunk in the past
where it doesn’t matter
what facts are changed

I watch against the places
where your story
lurches into the present
and you think this is your brother’s house,
think I am his wife —
you think you need to find your home,
you think you need to leave

I wait here with the mission
to head off your concern,
to keep it clear that you are home
and we are family,
and you can spend your days
just as you please,
dozing in and out of dream
while we hold down the corners of reality.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 6, 2016

Up

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plane mountains2

Your love will take you up the mountain,
ascend with you
as fast as focusing,
quick as the pause (from running stories)
in which you catch your breath
and let yourself sink
into the place of listening

The rising comes before you even notice,
before you think you’ve
figured it out

Your love
doesn’t run on logic
but on the obvious necessity
of its being
which has always been the truth
about it, about you

Your love will take you up the mountain
because it owns the vista,
and its nature is to share.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 3, 2016

Inspiration

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lagoon dawn2

The water becomes wine
as induction into
what was dearly sought
and only known
through dim translucencies

What would it mean henceforth
to see the light without the medium
of lantern panes, without
the coloration and diffusion?

How would it feel for that elixir
to well up from within?
For that soft glow to which
we’ve dedicated all our earthly efforts
to be the very center of our being?
What would that change? Certainly
the things we do with thought, with time

Then let us drink that wine
and raise our hands and eyes,
let the shine
that now reveals itself as us
illumine and align
all our endeavors

Let us walk out
into the common square,
let us look
and recognize each other there.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 2, 2016

Boldly

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Katama 2

On that morning
after the first thunderstorm
when the wind was still warm and moist and gusty
and the waves blew in boisterous cross directions,
light gray-green, hazy and salty

I had no fear
of the caution-warning voices,
no fear of surf crash or riptide
or the blanket enjoinment
against swimming alone

I knew when I got down the beach a ways,
I would go in boldly,
running down to the place
where the round stones tumbled
and I could dive through the turbulence
into the calm
so I could bob in the delightful coolness,
up and down with the waves

I felt so surely my belonging
in the elemental lustiness,
in the dance of water,
in the spray of salt,
that I didn’t know what could possibly
convince me to come out

Till suddenly it was time
to ride a wave
and find my foothold in the flowing sand
and step out while strong water
grabbed at my legs,
dig my toes in,
climb out into the morning wind.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 1, 2016

What I Noticed Today

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hemlockAn osprey,
two blue herons flying,
a high hemlock perch

A swooping swallow,
a reflective river,
duck with two babies
enclosed in green concentric circles

The discovery of new territory
in the old bounds of my body,
heretofore uncharted ground
in places in between the known landmarks

Morning clouds,
south breeze sounding wind chimes,
fresh coolness to the air,
working and waiting, and
stepping forward intrepidly
toward the receding edge of tomorrow.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 30, 2016

Innocence

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dawn at dock

True innocence
has no ignorance —
I learn this as I ride
the storm washed day,
I feel it as I pick my way
through my internal disarray
and feel the rays of light
infusing gradual understanding

This innocence
has not been torched by tragedy
and has not been imprisoned
in walls of fear,
this innocence steps clear
of all the crashing disillusionment,
of all the terror,
irrepressible assertion
that we are good to the core,
that we can steer by this
because we always are.

Therefore I saw your face as though it were the face of God,
and you were pleased with me.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 29, 2016

Caregiving

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signs of heaven

We look for signs of heaven
in our cool living room
(sheltered from summer heat)
when the old man awakes from sleep
and asks, are all my sisters gone?

I lived a good life, he says.
Yes, you’ll make it in alright, I say.
I ask him what he thinks it’s like,
and if he thinks he’ll see them.
He says a little; I don’t press it

For I feel we’ve touched, perhaps,
a depth I haven’t seen in some time
(or maybe ever)
I listen, instead, to the sound of traffic
coming in the open window.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 28, 2016