A book is growing in me like a child.
It bumps against my insides
from time to time
I hum to it
when I think to,
I settle into the gait
of its weight
I sense the course of its development,
chapters like ears of corn,
words like the kernels
Things remain mysterious,
like how it will all come together —
it isn’t mine to pry the answers out
A book is growing in me
like a poem. It will come out
when it’s ready.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 22, 2019
I guess I don’t know how
to pull myself together,
have no antidote
for centrifuge
I’m overcome
with feelings of expansion —
want shining love
for all these people,
want to understand
how this present light
fills them all with the overwhelming sense
that who they are
is just perfect
and how they look
is just fine
and what they give
is absolutely needed,
truly seen and gratefully received.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 21, 2019
Don’t panic. Don’t sink
from seeing the wind boisterous —
these are just screens before your eyes,
each one of them illusory
as the next
You can walk over these waves —
you don’t have to think
you need to change something
so you’ll be safe
Your security
is in the laws of your being,
the way you’re held beloved
in the Truth that holds everything,
every atom, every star,
in its perfect circle,
in its present grace.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 19, 2019
This time in our lives
joy collects in deep reservoirs
in the slow spaces where time
has made room,
in the lack of will to worry
and the willingness to accept
The widened shapes of our feet
echo a broader knowledge
of what can happen
and how much of that
doesn’t matter at all
Appreciation is a ripe fruit
we can pick without judgment
in the ease of laughter
(less work than fretting)
and the lubrication of many past tears,
in the clarity of coming full
in the abundance of years.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 18, 2019
It’s easy enough
in the fray of things
to forget what I’ve been given —
simple companionship
(the stuff of early dreams
portrayed as heaven)
a path to walk, so many ways
to wake up, to see new dimensions
folding out and multiplying views
Beauty of days, beauty of life,
beauty of others (known or not)
beauty of images which, dove-like,
come to rest with me
It’s easy enough to remember —
to let the blessings
fall upon my thought like rays,
to be in awe, to be illumined,
to let that light sustain me
and invoke my praise.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 17, 2019
When I came back today
it was still there, where I saw it
yesterday — the house
in its perfection, all the laws of it
standing, in their interlock,
in their prismatic color,
in the certainty of completion,
every vector blessing
I was glad to see it —
interested that I hadn’t known before
that it was here all the time,
delighted to consider
what it will offer us
and what we will give it
in these Soul ordered days.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 16, 2019
This is the day of clarity.
This day, in which the words are written,
this one, in which they are read
The vision is not prolonged.
All that I see must come to pass,
or rather, it has come to pass already
There is no waiting
for mortal mind to get it right.
I wait on Truth — which means
make no conclusions
until they coincide
with universal harmony
I’ll wait, even as I see
things falling down, even as
the voices scream that Truth has failed
Truth cannot fail.
It is its nature to be true.
And in this day of clarity
we’ll see it through.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 15, 2019
Hold your body to the flame —
you will phoenix-rise again,
this is nothing you can name —
these are your essences made plain
The burning bush is not consumed,
the burning life is fueled by learning,
steady down the steps of days
to your eternity returning
Set your sight on what you are,
glimpsed beneath your deepest hope —
the guiding lights you see afar
are nearer than you’re told
Hold your body to the flame
of all that lights and fuels your being —
this will now define your days,
becoming all you’re seeing.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 14, 2019
…in the heat of the day
and our leisurely pace
and our trek into town to do laundry
Overalls and garbage bags,
air condition, internet,
people we would never see
in any other circumstance
We built a wall today
(well, partially)
and we’ll build more tomorrow.
Young turkeys ran before us down our road
while swallows occupied the evening sky
…a little poem emerging
as the air cools down,
leaving space for words
I couldn’t find before.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 13, 2019
Turns out it’s good
for wind to blow through the house,
for windows to be open
I freed a hummingbird today
from plastic we had placed to keep out rain —
it fled my hands
and so got further stuck
until I broke the sheet away
and it escaped
The swallows still fly in and out,
but with the windows covered,
they got confused —
one had to make a stop inside,
perched on a rafter
before it could complete its outward swoop
Yes, we’re in a race against the weather,
but the game has its own rules —
apparently, for now, we need to make room
for others to play.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 12, 2019