In every wilderness
are rocks that can be struck for water
There is hope beneath the sand
Every living thing attracts
that which desires to bless it —
What it needs is there
and will come through
There is a power in everything
to summon what completes its arc,
There is a power in all of us
to meet what makes us spark,
When fear is banished,
the souls that shine alone
will call forth constellations from the dark.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 14, 2014
We are not prisoners
There are no bars upon our days
We are not pawns
and we are not enslaved
No grid constrains us
nor makes us walk its lines
nor forces us, through fear
to leave on lights against the night
We are not prisoners
There are no chains upon our thoughts
We’re not compelled
to think in boxes
No boundaries block us off
from realms we might explore
No lines of inquiry
can be forbidden
We are not prisoners
however fearsome the array
of shadow makers
designed to make us stay
within the lines of pre-established norms
Our deep completeness
still has the final say
and leads us, fearless
out to grander forms.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 13, 2014
The chaff is not nothing
— nothing is nothing —
It has a history
It has a future
It follows the dispersing energy
along the edge of wind
It lands against a fence
and gives its final nutrients
back to the ground
Or it ignites
in one last sparking,
its light and heat
a parting gift
before it burns to ash
becoming even more diffuse
The wheat is weighty,
concentrated in,
It holds the seed of life
It holds the focused plan
It is prepared for next year’s season
to drink the draft of life and thrive
And those first blades it sends
in vibrant springing green
to take in sun
to make the next year’s seed
will then at season’s end grow dry,
becoming chaff
So goes the cycle
with nothing wasted
Nothing is nothing —
All that has loved
still has a value here,
still has a place.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 12, 2014
Here is my love
that doesn’t cling
that doesn’t slide around its objects
to the dark side
that doesn’t grasp
that doesn’t weigh them down
or take up residence within their forms
as jealousy, possession
Here is my love
that must stay love
— all light —
illuming and infusing everything
and never changing —
Light as these wing tips
poised on the edge of that taut span
that masters flight,
poised to guide my actions
in the nuance
of the sweet embrace
of all that shimmers
and all that waits to shine.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 11, 2014
When you’ve lost your footing
sometimes the only thing to do
is tumble
Some things there’s no way
to put right
no words to reestablish
some former stance
Sometimes you need to let it go
in the turbulence of the roiling waves,
sand suspended, water full of it
turbid and thrashing
until they find their limit and recede
setting everything down smooth
gleaming innocent
along the stretching shore.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 10, 2014
I face the void,
I face my cluttered house
(my consciousness, that is)
I wander driftingly
for lack of company
I take myself in hand,
try to straighten up the stories,
pull at some of their recurring loops,
so many of them feeling old —
I don’t believe them anymore
(if I ever did)
These narratives arise from isolation,
they build inside, reverberating
from props I have set up
(characters to populate my constructs)
They become a burden, a distraction,
a show that takes attention
from present interactions
and I think how awkward it would be
if anyone could read my thoughts —
so far removed they are
from the expected present care
But if we all could read each other’s thoughts
I think these ones would dissipate
with all their lame assumptions and their fears
We’d feel the reinforcement
of acceptance, of approval
And we could walk easy
in the joy
of how light a touch of thought
could send such waves of comfort
to each other.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 9, 2014
Today, I bow
to follow the example
of small things
who cease to try
to forge and find their way
and let the currents take them
This journey
is too great for me
so I surrender —
I’ll trust the winds to sense
the way I need to go
and take me there.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 8, 2014
“On the Bus”, “Mycelium (and ours)”
From Being One, Being Two
What is true?
Today it’s not enough
to have a theory
I need to go down with you
into the spiral
need to attune
to your invitation,
need to receive
this moment of gravity,
this weight that rolls on me
and off, that I roll into
What is true?
This can’t live in a cushioned cloister
supported by reasons
and explanations
This truth lives
in the radiation
through the bones and out
beyond the surface
of the inner infinite
that jumps into the dance of life
and rides.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 6, 2014
Right where you are,
where you are right now
despite the swirling flurry
all around you,
despite how you may feel
ungrounded, floundering,
feet swept off the sand,
suspended, tumbled
Right where you are,
the force of your centered calm
is still in play,
It steadily asserts itself
beneath the fray,
It guides you home
You’ll feel a gentle balm
alighting like butterflies
upon your day,
whispering wing kisses
showing you
your heart, even when most moved
is still here,
still offers its sweet nectar
feeding you and everything you love.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 4, 2014
photo by Heather Mulhern