New Times

new times

It’s no longer good enough
to feel sacred,
to string bright-colored spiritual baubles
and put them in our hair,
to feel vaguely enlightened

It’s no longer good enough
to be in the same tribe
with others who talk the talk
of spiritual urgency
and share the sense of what is most important

In this time,
action is required of us all
and our light must actually make things clear
and our connections
need to give us more than fuzzy feelings

We must nurture and support each other,
help each other claim our native sovereignty:
When we name Spirit
we must bring forth its fruits —
harvest of sustenance,
lifework of truth.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 1, 2015

Bedrock

rock

Take me down to the bedrock,
Plant my feet
on something that’s not shifting
as days flow like dreams
and dreams flow like sand
along the sinking dunes of my perception

I can make no more conclusions
from any set of givens
sold in the market
of social norms
And I can find nothing
of enduring value
in the schools or in the stores

But there is something I can stand on,
step by step, there is a way to walk,
Guide my feet,
set them down surely
on eternal Spirit,
my only rock.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 31, 2014

Peace Returning

ice in pail

Many small actors
help my equilibrium return —
the recognition of an old friend,
a planned reunion followed through on,
lots of other little things —
Nothing momentous
or even relevant,
just the quiet footsteps of life,
each thing moving for its own purpose
on its own course

These things together
set down a patchwork of peace,
calm the roiled landscape,
re-establish my presence,
find my ground.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 30, 2014

Family Ties

frosty leaf

We want to dissolve
all the knots we made,
all the contortions
we put you through,
all the habits we forced on you
in the twistings of our ignorant demands

We see the marks upon your posture
of all the places that we failed
to let you stand tall, and breathe free
and claim the breadth and depth
of your own being

We wish, more than all else,
to set you free —
Is there a way?
Can we simply release you
from the tyranny of our early vision?
Is there a key in giving you
what you always knew that you deserved —
the full acknowledgement of everything you are,
of your infinity, your brilliant destiny?

Or maybe
it doesn’t hinge on us at all.
Maybe you have already flown,
and the enduring truth of your nature
guides you clear and pure
and all that’s left for us
is to forgive ourselves.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 28, 2014

Post-Christmas Musings

Christmas Tree

One way and another,
stories vary from experience:
We may ride safely in the container of
How lovely to have the children home
while our peace lies in shards,
all the comforts of home spilled out —
a thing that’s more convenient
not to mention

Let us remember
that other people’s stories,
one way and another,
may mask what they are feeling,
emotional complexities
foiling words entirely,
their need for comfort perhaps greatest
when their stories gush with
how perfect everything is,
how enviable their lives

The young man who stood in Bellevue
with downcast eyes
and a sign proclaiming homelessness
called me an angel when I gave him five dollars.
Who knows what story was there,
and what experience,
but I feel my money
was well spent.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 27, 2014

Quickening

Katama Quickening

Now no longer enthralled
by the currency of death
we turn to the currents of Life,
the ones that surge in quick joy
and course in steady peace

How could we not know
that this has always been our strength,
always held us up

And there was no substance in the fear
or in the threat of loss the fear was using
to hold what we most love hostage

Life is not bounded
by death, not bound
by limits, not circumscribed
by ultimatums

Life rules its own realm
and we are of it —
contiguous as ocean,
encircling as sky.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 26, 2014

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve

Look how perfectly
(though inadvertently)
the scene has now been set:
The gaudy lights and cynically
commercialized tunes
finally driving all light
out of the celebration,
with Christ’s name now so fast affixed
to vengeful, hateful opposites
and the supported pastimes of the season
so bereft of any sense of hope

We have achieved the ultimate:
a night dark enough
for it to really matter
that truth still breaks clear,
that the inevitable dawn
of that which always draws us close,
tenderly washes us as we approach,
till we’re delivered pure
to where we’ve always been
but didn’t know,
where we are dearly loved
by our eternal Source.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 24, 2014

Biding

Richmond beach biding

Faced with a riptide
or a vortex
Be calm —
There’s less to gain by thrashing
than by tuning in
and waiting for your moment

It’s OK
if you go down a little more
before you surface

There will be something you can use —
An eddy, or a bottom to spring up from
Or a gravitas within,
more weighty than
the surge can heave,
to separate you from the fray,
release you from its inundating force,
let you reclaim your footing
and your course.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 23, 2014

Preparation

snow

Our preparation is like snow falling,
small flakes landing here and there,
the first ones fading, white to wet
on roofs and pavement,
disappearing silently
into the grass

Later it may thicken,
accumulation quick enough
to form a lock — crystal fingers
holding bridging structure
against the melt,

And before we know it
we may be transformed
stepping softly
into the opening world
of our next life.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 22, 2014

Winter Solstice Eve

moon night

The longest night
comes and passes by,
Clouds scud across the dark sky,
Stars reveal that they were always here,
through the day, through the rain

Wind walks the hooded land
in its efficient stride,
Trees and chimes make comment,
Thoughts glide,
moving like the wind
along the canted
planes of observation,
ever slanting towards tomorrow
and the steady flow of everything
through the timeless changes
of ever cycling life.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 21, 2014