Author Archives: Wendy

Flow

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There is no stasis
(he said)
in relationships. Everything
is always moving

(Yes, like skin slides against skin
and may find a stopping point,
but then will find another way
to flow, exploring the soft
give of bodies and the many ways
they fit together)

Everything changes. Perspective,
relevance, immediacy, 
brightness, hue, saturation.

But there are constants, too —
the steadiness of pure soul
always being what it is,
shining through.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 4, 2013


By design

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Don’t worry.
I won’t lay out my program of bliss
without you. You are in it,
you will always be in it
because your being
brings me such joy.
(And if you want this
to apply to you, it does.)

I can’t imagine
bliss without you there.
The precise hue
of your perspective,
the timbre of your laugh,
the texture of your cuddle
are essential.
Your wisdom balances things,
your needs are needed.
In my vision
you will always have a place.

Wendy Mulhern
November 3, 2013


Walking it out

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Things can come clear
in the quiet steps of night
when there is time —
(a pause after a question
may take a block or even two —
the silence stretching taut between the houses
till there’s enough tug
to pull the answer up from underneath)

Things can come clear
in the dark
where a face can be averted
so exposing looks can pass by
undetected
and there is time
to regain composure,
to find the words,
and there’s time to get beyond
reflexive postures.  There’s time
to really hear, and to start over.

There’s time for the warm, quiet
language of hands
clasped through the traversing
of many streets
to make room for everything 
that needs to be spoken.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2013


What we needed

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None of the things we brought with us
were what we needed.
How, after all, could we have predicted
this place, this world?
How could we have known
none of our hard-learned lessons,
our expectations, our opinions,
our conclusions
would have weight?

No matter,
for we still had what we needed.
It was in us
all along.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 1, 2013


Here it is

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Look — I want you to see this:
In this view it looks like
light gleaming through a glass brick.

In this view it looks like
a small cat, fearless, poised and purring.

In this view it looks like
you inner jewel —
serving as keystone
to complete the amulet
transporting us to our ancestral home.

Our feet have walked these hills
for thousands of years.
All the belonging to them
leaps up through our soles
at every step.
All the deep strength 
from this land
reaffirms
the thing I wanted you to see.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 31, 2013


Seeking your heart

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When you first noticed it,
it was so deep inside
it felt like an ache.
As you followed the convoluted folds,
the fractal turnings
in and in,
it started to feel sharper
and its heat
became insistent.
You followed hard
(as hard as you could,
the fragile softness at the edges
slowing you sometimes)

You came to where
you could see its glow,
still through many layers,
and now you approach
reverently
feeling your way
knowing the great light
will burst upon you any time.

©Wendy Mulhern 
October 30, 2013


Morning

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Waking up,
you start to see
that there’s no need to go back
among the scattered shards,
the steady ebbing of your fluids
and the halted breath
to find and try to rescue
all the fallen parts.

Nothing is broken
and your being
shines as fresh within this day
as it has always shone.
There is no tally
of all those wrongs,
the generations of remorse,
the shame.
It’s all gone
in this, the morning:
Your name is clear,
your loveliness the same.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 29, 2013


Fall

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Let me take a little time
to be dry,
dry as my mouth against this headwind,
dry as the crunchy leaves on the trail.
Let me take a turn
at the inward curl
that is done emoting
and waits to receive,
not needing to do so in any length of time,
not being watched for a reaction,
just breathing,
just feeling.
Grant me the abandon
to let myself fall.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 28, 2013


What I will say

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I’m getting ready,
storing up the words,
letting them steep in their power.
They cannot be spoken till their time —
They need to leap across a certain space
and they won’t go
until they know
someone’s there to catch them.

In a real sense
this is not a performance —
I can only bring one half of the arch.
I can only trust that,
in accordance with the Law of Love,
the other half will be supplied by others,
and the circuit will connect
and the light will beam.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 26, 2013