Author Archives: Wendy

Open

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I held myself open

and the currents coursed in and in
on waves of sound;
I let myself be incomplete
so Spirit could decide,
could take me,
use me in fulfilling its own ends.

I held myself open
and the uncompleted loop invited flow,
caught me up
within a larger motion,
beyond my thought of where I was to go.

This kind of attention —
How to follow
the impulse of the slightest nuance,
to feel the current so created
as a palpable connection —
Engendered unexpected exaltation.

There’s time to be open
And afterwards, time to close
in the grateful rest that plays back
the full glorious song of it,
Remembering it, integrating it,
Becoming whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 20, 2013


Basking

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Sun shines clarity
through every vision.
Painted interplay of light
along the walls
brings out relationships
unseen in shade.
Earth warmth makes spirits rise
like air
in soft molecular expansion,
a floating in of possibilities
unconsidered hitherto.
It is enough to be here
basking in the magic
of the moment
while potent promises join hands
in co-creation of the gracious day.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 19, 2013


Wake up

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Wake up, wake up,
This is not your life —
It’s just that old dream,
The one that loops and loops
and never finds its resolution

Wake up, notice the signs
that this is just a dream:
The way you never get what you desire
The way it seems your only choice
is to feel empty
or fill the void with things you’re loath to do

Wake up — there’s more —
Your life is made
of stunning bands of chords and light
You’re vast as all those distant burning stars
Release this tiresome dream
and fill your sight
with what they tell your heart
of who you are.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 18, 2013


You Must Not Hide Your Power

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No, you must not hide your power
Nor stuff it in a shell of smallness
in some attempt at bland conformity;
Must not succumb to thoughts that say
To cloak your power 
would make you more like others,
More acceptable, more lovable,
Deserving of more care —
That, to fit in, you must be small like them.

No one is small!
And you must not be fooled
by shells that make them seem so
or games that shells may seem to play.

If you stand up
And breathe into the depth
of your own power
You will awaken
a rush of recognition
And hear the ripping
of all the shells of smallness
Cracking open, falling off from all the others
Who each have found their power
And now step free.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 17, 2013


Dances with trees

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       There is no shaking 
           this centered power
              It goes down deeper 
            than I can follow
         Its roots support 
     this soaring height
Accepting wind, 
  embracing flight,
       Swaying in the sun in exaltation,
                Singing out a constant invitation.
The channel flows
         from root to crown
      The surging quickness
    up and down
Unseen, but felt
  along the surface stillness
    Radiating warmth, 
      exuding wellness.
  There is no shaking
this centered power
 It courses through me
      It owns this hour 
         and in the tutelage of trees
             I find my ground,
             I hold my ease.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 16, 2013

After the Party

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I came back feeling sullied
and it was my own posture
that had sullied me —
crept into my old closet,
pulled out shrunken, moth-eaten clothes,
clothes that had failed in the past,
that had been stained —
Where was I looking
that I didn’t notice
it had put them on me?
I let them mold me
into the old stance, became
the one who craves and measures,
measures and craves,
seeks a bigger share
while believing she deserves
a smaller one,
forgets to connect,
goes home
feeling desperately alone.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2013


Today

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I will fly up quickly,
pressing my open parts forward
for maximum contact
against my source,
against the light that calls me,
that owns me,
that I know is mine

I will take in,
until the point of saturation,
all that bright liquid joy,
until it drips,
streams from me,
and I’m held at the quick
of the wick of non-consuming flame
that quenches every thirst

I will raise my arms
and turn outward
to see how we all have risen —
Liquid stars that call each other
bracingly
across the intimacy
of boundless space.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 14, 2013


Bearing Witness

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These hills will move
at your insistence —
Just take the path of least resistance;
Like water, flow along the deep lines
So everything that’s shifty
can be undermined.

No need to try to climb
the mounded layers of lies
Or build up planks on which to justify.
The earth adjusts herself;
What’s low will rise,
Rocks will settle, sands will glide.
The truth remains untouched by all resistance;
These hills will move
at your insistence.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 13, 2013


Coming in out of the fog

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It seemed, for a while
that my visage, too, was foggy;
me not quite solid —
not quite having the gravity
that draws momentum,
swings clearly,
finds spring and bounce,
sinks definitively
into its center

After a while —
A while of sleep,
to let my presence gather;
A while of leaving phantoms well alone
so they could slip away;
A while of not trying
to force my life colors —
of letting them rise
like streams, like tides —
Then the fog was gone
And I was home.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 12, 3013


How you are seen

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We don’t need all your actions to be perfect
There could be broken lines,
uncompleted sentences,
Places where intention drifted
into non-action

We don’t need to see the whole arc
Indeed, we all are artists
with our eyes,
And expertly connect
the most barely suggested edges
into one whole picture
in our minds

No need, indeed no use,
for you to backtrack,
to explain yourself,
to fix your story.
It probably
won’t change our picture, anyway.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 11, 2013