The hand of Love

Yesterday I was looking over my old blog, Splash of Spirit, and saw two poems that I had written under the titles “The Hand of Love”, and “The Hand of Love II,” which I wrote in 2008 and 2009 respectively, before I knew I was a poet. The first one I wrote in a writing group that I was leading for homeless women; I think the first line, in the middle of the night, was inspired by something one of the women suggested. In the second poem, I think I was consciously echoing the first one, though probably not looking at it. Anyway, I thought it might be worthwhile to reproduce them here:


The hand of Love

I.
In the middle of the night
the mother comes and strokes the child’s hair
running her fingers through
gently smoothing the strands

In the middle of the night
the currents of dreams softly realign thought
disentangling the questions
deftly smoothing the strands

Soft as water
strong as currents
lifting the mermaid hair 
up from the rocks
smoothing it and holding it 
in disentangled ripples
The hand of Love lifts all tangled things
smoothes them
sets them right and holds them 
in shimmering order.


II.
In the dawning of the morning
Rays of light stream like combs through the trees
Freeing each branch from its background
Lifting sight
Inspiring the chorus of the birds

In the dawning of the morning
The fingers of Love reach every dreaming thought
Warming each molecule
Enlivening joy
Tuning the chorus of the Word.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2013

Sea Change

Everything has changed
on the inside.
Though forms remain,
the structure
has been vivified.

What once was thought etheric
is seen to be more solid
(substance now defined by what’s alive)
And what we thought were bars
we now can see
are merely filterings and siftings
of the light.

What we once thought defined us
has shape-shifted with our spirit
And we see it sets no limits,
being infinite.

Everything has changed
on the inside.
Our step is free, 
our vistas wide,
Though if we turn around and look again,
we may know
This is how we’ve always been.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 7, 2013


Putting it out there

My main blog is Earth Whispering, in which I practice the discipline of writing a poem a day. You can reach it with the tab Earth Whispering Poems, above. This blog, the one you’re reading now, I don’t expect to be as prolific, but I want a place to post my thoughts about the process — writing, publishing, illustrating, presenting my work to the world. I hope it will encourage others who yearn to bring forth their unique gifts.

Before I started writing and publishing a poem a day, the poems that I did write would pace about my head from time to time. Some of them had tunes, and I would sing them. Others just had rhythms that would lend themselves well to the steady pedaling of my bicycle, and they would play themselves as I rode along. Behind each one of them would surface the plea, “let me out.” They would say, “listen to me, I’m good, am I not? Isn’t that image great, isn’t the juxtaposition of my words inspired?”

“I don’t know,” I’d tell them. “I like you, but who am I? I don’t know anything about poetry and how it is judged.”

So the poems would play themselves and go away, and come back again with a certain wistfulness. They gave me both joy and sadness, in the cloister of my mind.

Now that I write and publish a poem a day, they no longer haunt me. I haunt them sometimes, looking at the stats from my blog to see if anyone has looked, hoping for comments. But I don’t memorize them – there are too many of them for that, and each day demands its insights to be chronicled. They now bring me joy, with no sadness.

So if you are a closet poet — if you, also, have poems and songs that pace in your head and plead for you to release them, I deeply encourage you to let them go!

2012 marked, in addition to my blog, the print publication of two collections of poetry. This has been a remarkable experience, with much to share. I’ll talk about that in my next post.

When truth walks

When truth walks
Doors open
She is received
like a kiss
All resistance falling
to the yes

When truth walks
No matter how high
the lies are piled
How thick they’ve been amassed
She steps through them
Exposing them
as weightless shams

When we walk in truth
Though our steps are light
Our traction is momentous
for truth’s way is right.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 6, 2013


Believing

Maybe
the greatest thing you’ve ever done
is to believe in someone.

Maybe
the anchor of that trust
led someone’s roots
to the deep place of sustenance
where they could pull strength
steadily up into their being
springing forth in beauty and blessings.

Maybe
the best thing you can do
is to believe in someone’s love
For in that flourishing
(the most fulfilling part of their unfolding)
You, too, may find the bounty
that nourishes and brightens
all your days.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 5, 2013


Rolling

My love is a deep river
Calm and rich and full
If you step in, you’ll be enveloped
Carried in its rapid, steady flow

My white waters fall
to a smooth bowl
Carved a perfect round
from much coursing
Bubbles rise up after the plunge
Sunlight leaps in bright rejoicing

My love is an adventure
As new for me as it may be for you
I know it’s ocean-bound and well established
Still, each turn provides
an unexpected view

Roll, roll with me
Be gathered, swept along
Bring your streams to merge with mine
Bring your song
Great power will roll with us as we surge
Great wisdom will splash forth
as we emerge.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 4, 2012


Bone of my bones

The only thing
that can flow inside me
is love.
The only thing that quickens me
Oxygenates the deepest reaches
of my system
Wakes me up
and lets me move
is love.
The only substance of my bones,
their solid comfort, steady, strong support,
their unassuming service, their
good-natured density,
is love.

And love ignites the gratitude
that courses through me, leaps
along my limbs,
Curls into my inner places 
with their secret glow,
Lights me like a lantern, pours
illumination out
through my eyes, my skin, my tongue.
And love will ever lead me to my own,
The place that I may bless,
My heart, my home.
And love will guide my words, my steps, my days
In every breath of mine evincing praise.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2013


Special Announcement — my second book!

Dear readers,

I’m delighted to announce that my second poetry book is now out. You can view it on Amazon using the link below, but if you’re local, please buy it directly from me. (It’s a much better deal for me, and I can also sign your copy.)


Capture Rapture is about romance — all facets of it — from the initial attraction through all the uncertainties and questions, and including both the joy of union and the necessary regrouping when things don’t work out as hoped. Through all the aspects of romance, it provides spiritual resources that lead to the calm of love.

I also did the artwork for Capture Rapture, deriving great delight in the artistic process, with all its struggles. I endeavor to give a feeling of the poems without being distractingly literal. I hope you will check it out, and I hope you enjoy it!

-Wendy

The Shift

Maybe
the last thing we can know
is that home
is always right here with us —
Always has been
Always will be —
But we can’t know anything
before we’re willing to receive it.

What is this shift?
— Delivery of all promises —
To our journey, some sense of purpose,
Some clarity about our destination,
Some hope that we will find
the resources to lift us
higher than this hypnotizing mire
Higher than the prizes
of cheap objects made in China
Beyond the sense of being best
or being right, or simply being tired . . . 

Till we arrive
And maybe
the last truth we can receive
is that we never left.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 2, 2013


Resolutions

As Cassandra knew,
Seeing someone’s future
is no more useful
than seeing someone’s problem —
You can’t tell them about it
Can’t get them to believe, or to reform

It shouldn’t be surprising —
No one else is different from ourselves
And we have always found
these resolutions to reform
to be contrary escalators 
Plunging downward
much more rapidly
than we can rise.

Close your eyes
The winter sun that sparkles on the water
Still flickers, strobe-like, underneath your lids
The light still loves you,
Still knows how to touch
each dream that you, from fear of failure, hid
Your truth still owns you, and it knows
how every part of you is put together
Already worthy, cherished, ever whole
Not needing harsh reform to make you better
No need to reinvent yourself, no way to fall
And as it is with us
it is with all.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 1, 2013