Author Archives: Wendy

The Tasks at Hand

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ducks

If the tasks at hand
seem impossible,
just remember
the voice that tells you so
is not you. It is only
the keeper of boxes, the one
that tries to circumscribe your light,
the one that battles your dissent
with stridency of tone
so you will not keep fighting

The tasks at hand are a gift,
presented to celebrate your capabilities.
You are well able to do them,
and they will show the depth and brilliance
of your being.

The tasks at hand are yours —
Rise up!

©Wendy Mulhern
May 24, 2016

We Will Laugh

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dandelions

And most importantly,
we will laugh. We will laugh
in the delight of the life window
another’s story provides, we will
laugh in the sweet touch of a compliment,
in the glow of the overflow
of appreciation

We will laugh at lightness, we will laugh
at Taking Ourselves Too Seriously —
not to close anyone out
but to bring them in, to remind them
none of this weighs more
than dandelion fluff, it is all carried
in cushioned tenderness
through the laughing back eddies
of a larger current
which ultimately delivers
that which really matters
to its starting place
in the waiting land.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 23, 2016

 

Today’s Metaphysics

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lower pasture, spring morning

That which is everywhere
can’t be pushed around,
can’t be forced, can’t be withheld,
can’t be transferred, transmitted or dispensed

That which is everything
can’t be squeezed, or thinned out,
or distorted, can’t be deficient,
can’t be subjugated

That which we are
must exist in the context
of what is everywhere and everything,
forever whole, forever shining bright,
immutable and sovereign as light.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 22, 2016

Just a Story

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poplar

It’s just a story.
It’s just a story,
and these deep heavings
of vicarious grief
need not possess me
any longer than I choose

It’s a story, and its aftermath
was just a dream, just a dream
accompanied by torments
of the almost sleeper by my side

It all got slept away,
it all got side-stepped
in my midnight insistence
on immunity

So why, in the shadow
of this overcast afternoon,
do I feel the mounting, behind my eyes,
of what would be tears
if they felt sure they had a cause?

Every story must need
to be heard, be felt,
sweep up a community to circle it,
to deliver it down
to where all is resolved
in the peace-deep ever stirring sea.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 21, 2016

Stitches

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sky and fir

I’ve laid my needle down.
From here on out, I will not try
to stitch together separating clouds,
I will not stab
at what I, after all,
have no perspective
to clearly understand

The atmosphere has its own laws —
the vapors move on lines of pressure
I can’t see,
and even clouds with massive gaps between them
are still united in the common sky

As for this poem,
I’m not sure what I even meant,
and so it’s hard to know how it should end.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 19, 2016

At Home

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house front

We move in the easy circles
of things we have practiced
without thinking about it,
rounds of companionship and conversation,
movement and sitting still and not talking,
held together in the matrix of the music

It wasn’t always like this,
but maybe now we have learned
enough of our home base,
enough of our center,
that after we disperse,
when we come back,
we’ll find this place again.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 18, 2016

A Pause

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cottonwood

The afternoon seems quiet.
the sun has slipped away without comment,
the predicted overcast
taking its place silently

The day’s sounds are muted
in the humidity before the cooling.
Birds still sing, and traffic passes,
dogs bark, kids shout

And then the trees begin their comment,
rustle of approaching weather,
and the volume rises.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 17, 2016

Behold the fowls of the air

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front pasture grasses

Let me fly
in the rich provision for my being,
let me take no thought
for what will hold me,
what will glide me
along the subtle billows of the day,
what will deliver me
glowing and fulfilled
into the calm of evening

Let me take no thought
but let me know it fully,
let my gratitude warble
in a voice much larger than my form
across the land.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 16, 2016

Clearer Sight

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clearer sight

When I see you clear, I see
I don’t need to try to change anything,
don’t need to make you see, and then correct
some inner failing. In the light I see
the shadows drop away, I see
they never had been painted on your being

When I see you clear, your light illumines
doubts within myself, helps them to fade,
so in your light I find my own redemption
as my criticism falls away

And though a rush of voices may rise up
to try to pull my thoughts back to the fray,
my clearer sight will overwhelm their story,
flood out the stridency, let peace prevail.
I lay aside the old urge to be right —
a worn out battle I don’t need to fight.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 15, 2016