We settle ourselves back
into our closer orbit,
we give ourselves permission
for a moment’s rest
It has been work, it has been growth,
it’s been excitement —
we were willing, we were driven,
we pushed ourselves beyond our edge
Now we return —
it may be just a very short pause
before resuming our stalwart pace —
for now we’ll take the time
to be still,
take time to drink
from the pool of grace.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 11, 2019
I may bring tears to this process —
it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here,
doesn’t mean I don’t want to be cleansed
I may bring tears —
it doesn’t mean I’m sad —
they are, I guess, a way that I surrender,
a way that I acknowledge
I can’t do this alone,
nor even know the “this” I should be doing
Prepare my soil —
banish the traffickers of worldly ways,
break up the rocks, dissolve the thorns,
prepare my soul,
and I’ll be here to water your sweet seed.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 10, 2019
When we found ourselves walking
along the ridge line of bones,
landscape swept clean,
the symbols of comfort provision
suddenly gone,
what surprised us
was the singing,
the clear searing melodic
bowing across the edge,
core resonant vibration
We had thought
that if we lacked the cushion
we’d be bereft,
but there we were,
strengthened and heartened
by the haunting song
that filled our every step —
teaching ourselves to ourselves,
walking us home.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 9, 2019
And if we know
nothing we do
holds any weight,
we won’t try to sit down
on our achievements
and we won’t fall through them
wondering, as we fall
what happened — why
we weren’t supported
If we recognize
we are held up by our breath —
all we take in, all we give out,
all we see as true, and honor —
we will move lightly through the day
unmired by past or future,
nimble in the turnings of the moment.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2019
What we collectively
don’t understand about love
has filled volumes
We keep trying
one person’s map or another,
we feel so sure at times
and then so doubtful,
and much of what we’re sure about
is false, and as for what we doubt,
who knows if it is true?
And yet we keep on seeking it,
and somewhere deep inside we know
that something in us always loves
and so is always worthy
And any love we know
is real
and it will shine out
through our misconceptions —
every love will purify itself
until, with deep relief, we understand.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 7, 2019
In the wilting heat
the songs that come to me
are ones I’ve sung before
or heard so often forty years ago
that all the notes are etched deep in my mind
The same with words, with poems,
as lines I’ve read and loved come back to me,
along with ones I’ve written,
and the only way to find new words
is to seek shade, and the space it brings,
for leaves, and lines,
to hold themselves full.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 5, 2019
Consider your capacity
to bring joy,
for it is the great gift
you share with every living thing —
it is what rouses you, what feeds you,
what makes you feel alive
There are so many ways,
small and large, that your being does this,
just like these trees,
just like these flowers,
just like these people working,
doing their job well,
just like the swallows that fly chirping
through our open house,
the sheer delight they have in living
lighting us up.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 3, 2019
Patience moves through layers like breath,
giving each its needed round,
patience lets the frenzy settle
and begins again
There is time, there is time,
there is time for each idea to form,
to reach its fullness,
to let the circle close
There is a firmness that holds
the wind ruffled page,
that smoothes it out
and lets it turn in turn
So may my hands smooth
the tangled, rumpled tasks
so they can lie flat
along the day.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 2, 2019
We stand at the brink of August
and consider the color changes —
grass from green to flaxen,
daisy stalks to brown
Sunflowers dominate the garden,
tomatoes coming in,
red tassels forming on the corn,
unknown peppers in dark green
There will be other years
when we can shepherd this,
when we have time and infrastructure
to tend the land —
for now we’ll do the work
to make us ready for it,
so we can read the signs
and understand.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 31, 2019
We found songs in the wilderness —
some were left for us
by ones who had traversed the path before —
they told of things
we hoped one day to see
Others rose out of the rock
and the work, and the constant travel,
and the bone pure perception,
in the air, in the stillness,
of the Truth that guided us
along the searing way
We sang songs in the wilderness,
and as the land began to green,
we recognized some things
that we had sung about so often,
only guessing and imagining
how they might be
We sang songs of the wilderness
resting in the promised land, rejoicing in the gardens,
learning the things our songs had named,
also remembering
how we were inspired
when we were headed here
from far away.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 30, 2019