Crickets play the song of stars
their endless, tireless variation
close your eyes
and you still hear them shining
Stars sing in cricket voices
bringing the far away
so gently near
powerful and steadfast
clear as the dark sky
true as the night.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 27, 2014
Our Father
Source of the sky, of the horizon,
of every tree and all the circling
patterns of connection,
impulse for the life that hums
in every kind of breathing
(When I see myself as
everything I can perceive, conceive,
then, in every pulse
you are the lift
that flies my desire)
Which art in heaven
Whose essence is the kiss
of bliss, the unimagined
rush of every hope fulfilled,
the peace of perfect, whirring
harmony
Hallowed be thy name . . .
(It takes a long time
to get through the prayer like this —
most of a bike ride —
even when I’m not distracted.
The streaming landscape helps me —
provides the illustration and the inspiration
on earth as it is in heaven).
©Wendy Mulhern
August 26, 2014
I see you in the waves —
your little boy laugh
in the small ones at the surface
light green glinting in translucence
catching merrily and falling back
breath held, bright bubbles rising
as he sinks
ecstatic with luckiness
treasure of the caught gift
weighty in his hand
In the large swells
I see your man strength
dark, rolling
rising at the right time
coming up with deep feeling
moving in the logic
of the present need
folding everything
into its potent flow.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 25, 2014
The water pitched and danced
before the clacking ferry
which churned through
unaffected by its heaving,
Light withdrew to shine from distant pinpoints,
Waves tended toward black
And when, around the chop
into the harbor
the boat slowed,
my temples pulsed in echo
of the wind’s pounding
and I was suddenly ravenous
and longed for the yellow kitchen
and its round table
Home loomed up
in the comforting darkness
around the lighted dock
Crickets confirmed
I had arrived.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 23, 2014
Look up,
or close your eyes —
it doesn’t matter
You can breathe this green
through your lips, through your pores
you can feast on light
You can sleep
or keep on looking
here in the presence of infinity,
here in the closeness
of this embrace.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 22, 2014
The air was poised
in a feather balance
between warm and cool,
shifting one way or the other
with the sun and breeze
And I had to go out
where it could dance
across my skin
and I could take in all the scents —
dried leaves, ripe blackberries,
sprinkler systems, roses and mimosa —
and the longer shadows
and the exhilaration
of this visibly shorter day.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 21, 2014
Draw a picture for me, I said,
Take me on a mind trip,
tell me how it was for you
He said there wasn’t anything to say,
He grew impatient, for my questions
were so obvious —
Of course he had a backpack,
of course he had no trouble
finding his way
That’s OK. I have my own wilderness.
I have my own T-shirt-with-no-sweatshirt
journey through the mountains
and the cold of night
I have my own clearing
of the shrouded thoughts
I didn’t know I had,
my own exploration
of my power to hold the true sight
of all that brightness
streaming from his being,
all that trippy
flowing of his mind
and all the gifts of rare vision
offered by each singular
reflection of the light.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 20, 2014
Yes, we see each other
The signal that I sent across the years
(which, since it met with no response,
I’d left,
continuing to work
because I needed to,
slowly gaining prowess on my own)
Has now come back
at the right time.
Light recognizes light,
Honest dedicated effort
sees the same
And so we start to forge a higher discourse
Where we redeem the purpose of our being
So I say thanks —
Thanks for how you live your life,
thanks for what you see
thanks for the clarity
that frames your thoughts,
thanks for seeing me
Thanks for attention, instead of norms,
Thanks for the dance within the meta-forms.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 19, 2014
Of course you’re irreplaceable
for infinite Mind is too interested
in every molecule and moment
not to attend especially to each one
No factory assembly here,
no stamping blocks
insuring uniformity —
Each one arises from the need
within itself,
Each grows within the pattern of its being
Each leans into the call
to fill its place,
to be the perfect answer
to the perfect questions
reaching out around it
So of course you’re irreplaceable
but more than in that sense —
it’s also true
There’s no one else
with whom I’m me
the way I am with you.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 18, 2014
Can’t live someone else’s life
Spirit, you’ve given me this perfect day
Mid August, with some leaves already turning
You’ve given me these shots of joy
Red branches in the tops of trees
You turn my focus outward
Streaks of cloud, streaks of cool
Give directionality to my light
I redefine myself as this flowing
©Wendy Mulhern
August 17, 2014