A world made
of everything that happened,
an armature of sighs,
something seen the moment
before I opened my eyes,
not enough time
to make any difference
There may be hope
in the very slightest of things,
the gossamer of insect wings,
the care that has been taken
at every scale where things can be perceived —
we may not understand
but this may help us to believe.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 26, 2019
In the end we will find
we have not been betrayed
by our choices. We won’t come to wish
we had known better
and done something else,
even when vast scenarios
play themselves out — if only …
Our coming into ourselves
is not a matter of chance,
of choice, any more than is
the river’s course
or the return of waves
back along their cycle at the shore
We’ll meet again — I’m certain —
We’ll celebrate the beauty of our lives,
the tender light we each shed
on the world and on each other
in every place where we were meant to shine,
undimmed by how we dipped our threads through time.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 24, 2019
In the realm of Spirit
there is no rationing —
You will rise like morning
drenched in joy,
you will drink freely
and light will flow liquid
across the whole page
of your day.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 23, 2019
In a moment things can change color,
the fall of light, the path of clouds,
reflection’s edges …
My thought trails behind perceptions —
I reach for color names
but cannot find them
Or I still think the walls are yellow
long past the time that shadow
has rendered them something else —
Is it a weakness of language,
or of my nimbleness of mind,
or some efficient function
of what I need to know?
— As evening pulls the corners into umber,
leaving golden glows around the lamps.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 20, 2019
(on biking before the storm)
Storm was predicted
and after the bright morning
it started to roll in
It is said that a wind passed through the mountains,
breaking the rocks in pieces
but the power was not in the wind
nor was the consequence
and there was a vast stillness
in the recognition
that none of that violence
could do anything
in the face of Truth
The snow was more benign than rain —
not wet enough to bother,
hardly visible, but finding its way,
sometimes, into my mouth
as I rode and considered
what it must mean
that the wind and the earthquake and the fire,
though they did break the mountains,
couldn’t do anything.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 19, 2019
The day went soft.
Snow started but did not continue.
Ice on the pond got wet on top
and slushy at the edges.
Our feet stepped quiet
on the brown oak leaves
We, too, are soft —
soft towards each other,
soft in the tender places
where our edges touch
We may be overcast
but we are warm,
we may lack brilliant blue
but we still have sienna.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2019
Something leaps up quick
behind my eyes. It could be tears,
the slow sting of memories,
could be frustration,
but every time I head down that path,
it seems I end up
in the same place
I taste that missing someone
is bittersweet. The sweetness
is indeed a potent force,
the sorrow seeping slightly after,
not overwhelming the brightness
but softening it.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 17, 2019
(to myself)
This lesson is for you alone —
don’t try to teach it
to anyone else. It is your job
to use these lenses
to see how this person
(the one with you or who you’re thinking of)
is blessed, beloved,
incomparable
And there’s no such thing
as needing to improve
(not even for you)
and it’s not your job
to make anything happen
and it’s not your virtue
when it does.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 16, 2019
Lest I be overwhelmed
by edges, the places beyond which
I cannot know
Lest I toss my anchor
into shrouded future
and be pulled on and down
into its undertow
Let me stay firm,
focused on here and now,
let me find the depth
of what I do understand —
what I experience,
what I can harvest
as surely in this winter
as many seasons later.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 15, 2019
You come into this place
where all is forgiven —
this place too big for indignation,
too big for shame,
too big for being right,
too big for having thought
all of those small thoughts
that kept things in their place
and called some things impossible
and other things unfortunate,
that called some people good
and others bad
This place is too big for any of that.
So you look, clear-eyed and amazed,
surprised at what you never knew before
but certainly are sure of now.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2019