I will not talk about
things that are not mine –
what I have not proven
will stand out like sticks
that pontifications
can never clothe
I’ll let the colors fall
and let the branches
speak for themselves –
these things I think I ought to know
but don’t
still stand out clear
and I will see them
as I keep seeking.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 5, 2020
That we can work together
through rain,
that we can be cheerful
as puddles form
and gloves get wet
gives me a chortle,
a bright warming,
an inner heat source
to counteract my dampened clothes
We kept on working
while the rain came harder,
and then it stopped, and we continued,
the appreciation that we had
each for the other
as strong a structure as the frame we built.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 3, 2020
Behind the wisps of sorrow
that came drifting up
from memories released
by an offhand reminder
Behind my being sorry
for being too inept
to offer you the wisdom
that you looked for,
behind the sense
that I had let you down
Comes, like the light that prompts the mist to lift,
to float above the ground before dispersing,
the fact that love was, even then,
the only force impelling me,
the only message I could give
and all that you could really hear
And love, I know, can do no harm,
and nothing I advised,
could interfere with who you are
and how you shine,
could hold you back from coming to your own.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 2, 2020
The coals sink down,
the room grows colder,
and the day’s memories
stretch like embers
for my mind to scan –
the times of being cold, of being warm,
the work, the company,
joy finally remaining
the last thing glowing
as I turn my attention towards sleep.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 31, 2020
It may be a great gift
not to have the choice
whether to notice
the specificity of days –
the arc the moon takes through the night,
the temperature, whether the fog will lift,
or if it settles to a soft drizzle,
slowly saturating gloves and cuffs
In many striking moments
we look up from our work
and call out to each other – look –
the way the light is sitting on the field now,
the way the moon peaks through –
It is a gift,
though we may wish it otherwise –
it makes us richer,
despite how we may feel.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 30, 2020
This isn’t a quid pro quo,
nor yet a reward earned –
not a thing I have to do
to get what I want
Doing this is what I want,
kindness being an elixir
of greatest strength, a sensitizer,
opening up huge realms of splendid view,
releasing bounding joy.
This isn’t something I do to be good –
This is goodness singing me.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 29, 2020
I took myself out
of my narrow shaft of light,
the one I thought shone
only on me, the one that showed me up
as either worthy or unworthy,
but different, categorically, from others
How to explain this?
– it’s not to say
I don’t think I’m unique,
just no more so than anybody else,
it’s not to say the light
doesn’t shine on me,
just that it doesn’t shine on me alone
How could I have thought so?
All those years, that wondering
why I felt so lonely,
why friendships
could seem so hard to find
(looking for another
singular
shaft of light)
When all this time
all that I needed
was to look and see the sunshine
resting on every head,
on every life.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 27, 2020
It took us longer than we thought it would –
designing methods, designing rigging,
and time for extra careful execution of the steps,
several hours to get ready,
then fifteen minutes to perform the deed,
and maybe half an hour, after that,
to shore it up
When we were finished
we felt victorious,
mind having triumphed over dead weight,
heart having triumphed over cold.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 26, 2020
I thought I saw a little cat
sleeping in the end grain of the wood,
glinting orange as coals,
a little gray around the edges,
but my camera couldn’t catch it,
focusing instead
on the licking lights
And then the image faded from the wood face
and the warmth that filled the room
during the roaring of the fire
kept getting sucked out
to the coldness of the night.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 25, 2020
In many moments
that are like light between the trees,
that are like colors
across the evening sky,
I see my life is so much more
than what I thought
It can’t be limited by space or time –
it spills out of the sides
of any constructs, it stretches out
in comprehension
of something bigger than the realm of stars –
as comprehensive, finally, as “our”,
as big as hope, enduring as desire.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 24, 2020