Author Archives: Wendy

Evening contrasts

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The coziness of a heated house
is made stronger
by a foray into crisp evening
which is made fresher
in its contrast
with the warmth inside,
which is made sweeter
by the movement of the outside wind.
So blessed we are to venture out
and to return,
renewed, embraced
in this
as in the cycling 
of every breath.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 22, 2013


Supply

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Within Love’s infinity
there’s enough 
to craft everything —
enough scope, enough minute attention,
enough mastery, enough variation,
enough presence.
No fear or failure is required
for any true creation.

Here we are.
Here is the current canvas
and the moment’s brushstrokes,
Here is the object of our inspiration,
Here is our power to wield the artist’s tools
and bring each hidden gift to view.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 21, 2013


Blues and Olives

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Things that have
the bitterness of olives
and dandelion greens
should not be sweetened.
You have to take them down
with salt and garlic
in the dark rolling flavor
that seeks the underside of tongues
in the wild place
where stomachs growl
and teeth chomp.

It is the same with Blues —
low crooning twang
taking you down 
into the satisfying
soothing ooze
of deep brine.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 20, 2013


Glimpses

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How can you describe the glimpsing of this truth?

You see it like a deer in the woods,
suddenly revealed by a shift in shadow,
Then it’s gone —
Gone to your eyes at least —
You know it’s there,
and if you focus in just right
you’re sure you’ll see it.

You see it like a color —
white-rimmed mauve upon the water,
flickering and disappearing
till you find its source
in the sunset sky
and then you see it
repeated in great swaths across the lake.

It’s like a snatch of song
So sweet and haunting to your inward ear
But which you can’t quite hum
because you don’t quite know it.
Wait. Be still. You’ve called for it
And so, in its time, it will come.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 19, 2013


Met

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The awkward throw,
high and wide or falling short,
allows for a heroic catch —
someone so inclined can run
and leap and dive
and hold their object
deftly cradled against falling.

The awkward comment,
tactless, unconsidered,
still can summon
heroic grace —
a pause, a gentle turn of phrase
that reveals the deep intent,
the effort for connection that was meant,
and so restore the moment’s joy and peace.

Everywhere I feel I have been awkward,
I still am held
within the harmony of the unending dance
where everything I do
can be profoundly met
with what brings forth
the fundamental good.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2013


Empty Nest

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We move among the circles
that close quickly now,
tasks suddenly rendered easy
by lack of interruption,
huge projects now looking feasible

And we need to hang on hard
to the sense of purpose
that propels us forwards,
and learn to be sustained
by something other than
the scanty tidbits
gleaned from afar —
Harvest our joy
in what they have become,
but forge forward on our own.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 16, 2013


Crafting

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Going in, I need to be
completely clean —
no burrs, no barbs, no sticky spots
to catch at the fragile web.

If I am to piece together
from these parts as soft and thin as petals,
a garment that will serve to cover us,
give us a name, a role,
a way to hold ourselves,
Then I must sew it deftly —
no rips or tears to render it
in need of still more sewing

So let me pause here first,
let all investment fall away
that I may be
a good instrument,
and my work true.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 15, 2013


Tidal

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In the sea’s splendid surge —
foam swirling, gathering,
showing the grand dance of waves —
There is no resistance —
nothing that fails to move
in that symphonic harmony,
no molecule that bucks against the thunderous tide.

No more can we 
rebel against the law that moves us —
not as something separate from us
but in a oneness
like waves and water —
so we are held.
So we swirl, so we dance,
so we flow.
There’s no resistance
and there is no failing
in the surge of Life’s unending tide.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 14, 2013


Transition

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I stood in transition,
hip deep in now-quiet waters,
feeling the melancholy of change, of stasis,
of muted gray and green

Then to the west
appeared a crisp rip in the clouds,
bright blue streaking out
clean and deep behind the weather

And without knowing just what prompted me,
I slid, snakelike, into the waiting water
to slip my skin and swim.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 13, 2013


Circles

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Here is the circle
where I am held in your heart,
All of me enclosed, included,
Swinging in the hammock
of your care.

Here is the circle of radiation —
all of the warmth
that flows from that cozy enclosure,
Spread to include
those who come in the line of my sight,
Sure to exude all the comforts 
of this dear delight.

Here is the circle
of all who are drawn to the love,
Bringing their own light
and feeling it rise in the center.
Here is the joining of links that will hold us
in that grateful unity
called our community
All of which grows from the start
of how I am held in your heart.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 12, 2013