Author Archives: Wendy

Testimony

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IMG_0575

It didn’t matter how huge
the machinations were, how
overwhelming the structure,
how intricately wrought
the arguments, that testified
to your defeat. It didn’t matter
that they were years in the making,
didn’t matter how many putative forces
had been involved, how many actors
had had their hands in it.

We were told, in no uncertain terms,
that their evidence was ironclad,
that nothing could assail the verdict.

However.

Tide rises inexorably, with power
no sand can ever challenge.
Each meticulously placed grain
is simply lifted in the surf,
suspended in its own singular encounter
with the truth, set down on its own.
No structure is even remembered,
and your innocence, your wholeness,
gleams smooth and clear upon the shore.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 6, 2016

vessels by Jennifer McCurdy, photo by Josh Liebowitz

Boxes

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Oak and firs

Everyone has their little box,
everyone has their story
posted on a placard
outside their confinement

(This is the long-tailed macaque
who comes from forests in Sumatra,
this is the gila monster,
king of the Arizona desert)

Upon the walls are painted
scenes to make our diorama,
illusions of our native habitat,
jungle depths in two dimensions

If we sit sad in our little box,
it’s not because the picture is inaccurate,
if we scratch away the paint,
it’s not wonton destruction of our paradise

Eventually we are forced inward
to grasp the Mind-power
that has the key to see us home,
sees us clear beyond the dream
dissolves the box, and finds us free.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 4, 2016

Footing

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Mill Creek upstream

Becoming real entails confronting demons.
You can float along the currents of illusion
with a fluff-constructed image of yourself,
an easy (mostly joyless) ride from birth to death,
through all the trumped up strokes of luck and chance

But if you once find solid footing,
struggle and scramble to stand up,
to hold your place,
you’ll feel the current rushing up against you,
you’ll look your demons in the face

Take courage, you are gaining strength,
and you will be supported by this place,
the tingle of the bracing air will help you,
the kindness of the sun afford you grace.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2016

Life Turns

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meadow,fence

And if we are surprised at life —
if what we’re dealt, if what we’re dealing with
is so removed from what we planned, imagined,
If we are flummoxed or bemused,
or wrung out till it seems no more can follow,
life still takes us by our puzzled hand,
leading us to drop our expectations

On the other side, life waits to emerge
in our consciousness
like green leaves after winter,
soft as new growth on firs,
miraculous as horse chestnuts
with their springing buds,
profound as the secret
of trees seeding clouds for rain,
bringing blessings more transformative than tears,
reestablishing our faith.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 2, 2016

To the Edge

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to the edge

The heat and the work
burned out all the pettiness —
There was nothing left
for being right or being wrong,
for being better or being worse,
for looking good or foolish.
there was nothing left
for irritation or disappointment,
hardly even anything left for thought

We recovered slowly
as the sun slowly relented,
and the bird song
which had been constant,
we started to notice again,
and gratitude started to flow in,
and affection,
and appreciation
for being in this together
and going out to the very edge
and holding hands
to make sure we would survive.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 31, 2016

Pioneers

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star flowers

In time we stopped wishing
we knew someone
who knew the answers,
stopped fearing
we would make terrible, stupid mistakes.
In this place, we are pioneers,
alone in the stature of our own thoughts

As we work
the generous scent of kindness
rises from the land,
blackbirds trill by the pond,
a raven riffs in a nearby forest
while songbirds fill the closer,
lower, places
with their exuberance

What we need to know
will come to us
in the logic of our needs
and in our birthright of belonging.
We find clarity as we listen,
we will fill our place
as surely as all of these.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2016

Words

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Shami2

Sometimes words are overrated,
sometimes what’s needed
is a closer contact,
the lock of what’s present
between you and me,
side stepping the demand
for coordination
or negotiation

And maybe it’s not time
to be searching for words
as evening settles in steady
and an affectionate cat
pushes and purrs against my lap
while the creek murmurs
and the smell of dinner
wafts from a neighbor’s house

These trees will move in silence
towards darkness,
These cats want to be fed.
Whatever words I may have now
will fall unspoken,
but what’s essential will still be said.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 28, 2016

Where We Live

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artichoke,kiwi

I love the way our yard is now
with the kiwi vine pushing through the artichoke,
heading up the cherry tree,
with the honeysuckle in full bloom
(rhodies now spent)
and the chickadees flitting back and forth
to their vociferous young

I am happy with the lush greenness
of all the weeds, and the upward insistence
of herbs gone to seed
and the young trees offering young fruits,
feeding us now with hope

I recognize it will be daunting
when we need to bring it all in line,
a task I’ll face next year, perhaps —
for now, for me, it’s fine.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 27, 2016

Reminders

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Greenlake twilight

Maybe the way I seem to need
to be reminded again and again
is not unlike the looping questions
from the old man of the house:

Where are we?
How long have I been here?
When am I going home?

And maybe my Source is just as patient
with the replies, over and over again:

You are worthy and beloved
You have always been here
You are home

And if I soared yesterday
and sink today, even if yesterday, really,
was not that long ago, and I felt sure
I’d never forget it,
I still seem to need reminding:

You are worthy and beloved
You have always been here
You are home.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 25, 2016