Author Archives: Wendy

Is this a function of years?

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pond with fall blackberry

Things start to feel
more like a story,
less like my life

All the things we failed to engineer,
all the things we tried to make happen,
the things that happened anyway,
the time that passed,
all the little memories —
trapped jewels of moments
glinting in the web
of our day-to-day past

The soft glow of acceptance
soothes the edges
of fervent and forgotten hopes —
we will not cause
the things that happen
but we will move through them
like light across the day,
we will take them in
to our ascending warmth.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 10, 2015

Christmas Letter

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frosty maple leaves

There will be no Christmas letter
from us this year.
No Christmas letter, and no attending parties
where people talk and laugh and fill each other in
on their lives.

We have gone under water
and all our currency is ruined,
Or we have flown or fallen
into some different world
where we have yet to learn the referents.

We are rendered mute
not by being empty
but by being full —
too full to stir the new things in
(sloshing over the sides)

We’d love to tell you all about this
but we can’t.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 8, 2015

Unmiraculous

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bare trees, wires

Days can seem unmiraculous,
even when someone returns,
from three days in bed
and one foot in another world,
to this one, and resumes his former place
as if nothing has happened
(and it hasn’t)

Days can seem staid
though much has been accomplished,
papers sorted and filed,
order restored
as rain lays down its seeps and puddles
throughout the darkish day
and things settle underground,
and the water table rises capably

It may be unmiraculous
that life goes through its quiet transformations,
yet miracle ever awaits
our moments of noticing.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 7, 2015

Course Correction

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steel sun beach

Forgive me. I have overstepped.
I should have known.
Thank you. For in this rebuff
I have come to understand
I was off course. I must not
take personal credit
for that which shines through me,
I must not
try to direct it, make it a story
(featuring me)

That which shines me
may have other vectors in mind
and is calling me
to a more present focus,
to work that magnifies
peace for everyone,
letting worries slide away,
letting each idea
come in and be received
in its perfect time.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 6, 2015

If it is art

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23. Jennifer McCurdy Coral in Ice Stream Photograph by Julius Friedman 2011

If it is art
it will build on everything
that came before it,
and it will add something —

the excitement of
the fresh curve of cresting wave,
bright froth touched
by this singular breath of wind,
the clean erasure of past footprints
and its new line on crusted sand

brought here through
swells that built across the sound,
carrying each signal
of ships, of currents,
fish and whales,
the deep memory of ancient water
and the surface memory
that knows the oneness
to which it constantly returns

If it is art
it will touch your skin
in just that way —
so much truth laid down
in the communion of your viewing.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 4, 2015

Vessel by Jennifer McCurdy, photo by Julius Friedman

Saved

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two old firs

We will not save each other
but we will be saved.
When our tallies fail,
when our expectations fall,
and we’ve both put up our barriers
and each need to be saved first,
we can not save each other

But the fact that we reached out our hands
invokes the ever present aid,
the way we once saw light within each other
has earned our eyes the power to see the light

The light will save us
as it always has,
for it has never left us from its sight.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 3, 2015

Untangled

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last leaves

You lift me from my tangled threads of story,
though I grab back at them, keep trying
to catch them up, to follow them,
to tease them out

Your hand is firm,
You hold me still
until I recognize
I was not ever tied
to all those histories,
never bound to those projected outcomes

I have always been
determined solely
by Your essence.
Your untroubled knowing of who I am
sings me into being
in every moment,
never moved by any other force,
hallowed, safe, and steady on my course.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2015

Simple Warmth

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low sun on west side

These days our circles are clipped
by cold, by early darkness,
and my gratitude glows bright
for simple warmth —
the miraculous heat of your body
bringing me in to the safety
that melts my hard edges,
the rigid shivering giving thankful place
to the reception
of your radiation,
effortless, smooth,
comforting to the bone.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 29, 2015

There’s time

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long frost

Quiet. There will be time
for everything,
as long frost crystals form
through the night,
as iridescent frost melt
shines in morning sun,
and bright green is released from whiteness
as the shadows move

There will be time
for everything to rise into its purpose,
to stretch, luxuriant, in the fulfilling
of what it has always been
and will ever be

There is always time,
and it will be enough.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 28, 2015

frosty grass

Lanterns

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thicket in late sun

It’s not the lanterns that we’re after,
it’s the light. (As far as lanterns go,
there may be many, some
more beautiful than others,
some more costly

But if you look in someone’s closet
at the ones they have acquired, discarded,
that still won’t tell their story)

We’re all reaching for the same thing,
and as we find it, we’ll have more to use,
and better vision
to find the light right here,
not in lanterns
but reflecting true
from the deep clear essence
of our core.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 25, 2015