Category Archives: Earth Whispering: Poems

It’s my discipline to write a poem a day, and I post a poem here almost every day. To find a given poem or poems on a given topic, use the search bar at the right. To receive my poems by email, please subscribe, at right.

I’d love to hear your comments on any poems. To comment, click on the little speech bubble just under this text, to the right.

Refining

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refining

When you melt
you slip away
from all those stories —
gravity pulls your essence
in a steady stream
of who you are

You flow away
from what you’ve done,
from what you’ve thought you’ve been,
from all those definitions of yourself
imposed by others and by circumstance

Some of those foreign things
go up in ash, some may remain
but you are here now —
your own cohesion
is your new reality

And you will shine
in such a pure reflective gleam
as you’re refined,
as you come clean.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 12, 2014

The Price

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wet screen

This garden tending
is not a facile thing —
The easy steps
are undermined
by tough complexities:
Slugs decapitate my seedlings,
Cats make them casualties
of their hygiene

I provided, each time,
what I knew seedlings needed —
moisture-holding mulch,
light, smooth soil —
each of which then also brought
these unintended consequences

But I will not give up.
It is required of me
that I learn more and more
until I know enough
to put things into balance,
Which I can only gain
with deep attention.
It is fair that I,
like every living thing
should pay this price for life.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 10, 2014

Processes

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processes

Well, all this postulation,
all these square-edged pages,
cluttered thought,
have held me, for a time,
in a constricting maze

And I have found my breathing shallow
in the halted place
of waiting
while trying to push time,
regretting,
not able to make amends,
feeling the black ink of belittling stories
run towards my eyes

But all these things must fade
against the call of life,
grow weak against the moist soil,
disintegrate,
be swept away
by the bright deep breathing
of the water cycle,
of earth and sky,
and the clear imprint
of the living day.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 9, 2014

again and again and again

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riverdip2

I will dip me in to drink
from the unformed place
I will let myself melt
I will celebrate
approaching empty
in open-handed faith
that brings nothing to the moment
but the readiness
to see the springing up of life
to feel it shooting through me
in recognition
to be the wonder
I couldn’t have imagined
to be born
again and again and again
in the swirling elements
that ever know their own.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 8, 2014

Learning Myself

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learning myself

I will distill this moment,
put it by,
and others like it
till I understand

And I will move in joy like the wind,
Untrammeled by a predetermined form,
I will be in the place I need most,
the place I am most needed —

It will be
a susurrus of tender willow,
the balm of blossom scent,
a ripple’s laugh,
It will be
the nexus of nourishment
and the incubation place for things to come

I will be that sudden curl
around the chakras
that clasps the anchor
to what can’t be moved,
and so procures its counterweight,
unfettered freedom

In that day, though I won’t be defined
in any way I’ve ever known,
I’ll know myself most deeply
and be home.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 7, 2014

Germination

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germination

In this uncharted place,
Seeds are my teachers —
Some have given their lives
for my learning,
teaching, in their dying,
what they needed

As for me, what I owe
is rapt attention —
I can’t assume I know a single thing —
This humble openness
is my gift
in which a seed may sprout —
I must maintain it
free of arrogance,
free of crippling doubt

They are so small
to command
so much of my time!
I imagine each of them
a fruiting plant, a meal,
a harvest . . .

My understanding
is a tiny grain,
A well-soaked seed
ready to sprout —
So much it needs to grow
to be robust, a living system
thriving on its own,
that will let me nurture life
with what I know.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 6, 2014

No more answers

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no answers

Well, there may be answers
but they’re not pre-packaged,
not catalogued, not stored away
to be pulled out when mildly relevant,
slapped into self-congratulating use

The only answers
must rise integrally from the brew,
kambucha mothers to the moment’s process —
They are not for solving things
but for savoring
the slow, unlabored turn toward resolution,
the feeding and the growth
of what is formed when we’re together
when our seeking hunger
is answer to each other

We live here —
Not in the artifact
but in our living thought —
the new, the quick,
the nourishment
of what we each have brought.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 4, 2014

Interlude with Cherry Blossoms

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cherry blossoms1

Fallen blossoms coat the grass, the streets,
Petals float into my open window,
I am guided here
by something larger
than my own design,
So I will wait

Pale pink mixes with random raindrops,
Wind stirs up the mix and sets it down,
Pale green emerges on the trees
where pink has fallen,
In a little while, I guess,
I’ll head for home

This is a street with cars, with lawns, with houses,
Not many people though, this time of day,
The petals make their way
in silent offering,
life-gift to earth,
a blessing that will stay.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 3, 2014

Goodbye, Hello

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crag tree

Goodbye overflowing, easy joys,
Goodbye the high of bright connection,
Goodbye astonishment of comfort,
and the glow of freely shared affection

Hello craggy upward trail,
expanding vistas promised in the thinning air
Hello strong rush of solar plexus,
heart ascending into deeper care

Goodbye oblivion of needs,
Hello to standing up for what is fair,
Goodbye to pleasure on its own account,
Hello hard work and all its rich rewards

And if I persevere along this climb,
Perhaps at higher turns I’ll come around
to find those older joys have multiplied,
their blessings clear, their purpose
now more sound.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 2, 2014

Lenses

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lenses

Through some lenses
it’s easier
to see people’s blindness
than their lights —

Those are the lenses
affixed to us like blinders
to make us go a way
we haven’t chosen,
and wouldn’t want —
the way in which
before the joy (we’re told)
must come the suffering —
Suffering to pay the price,
suffering for us or them,
suffering to earn the prize
or wrest it from another.

Try these lenses:
They’re designed
to magnify the lights —
The light behind each effort,
each ungraceful try,
each stumble,
The light of love that longs
for one straight chance
to be seen true,
the light of love that,
when you see it,
will come through.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 1, 2014