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.

Pattern Language

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We are made
to find the way 
to harmonize,
To move in phase,
to synchronize our orbits,
So when we come around
we blink together

These frequencies form
intricate and interlocking webs,
the patterns where
communities develop.
They rise from us,
from what we are
alone and with each other.

We come into our world
remembering this dance,
and if no heavy hand
compels us to forget,
we’ll build it naturally.
But if we have forgotten,
We’re still not lost:
It only takes a few key intersections
to recreate the whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 18. 2013


We Are Home

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There will be no pretending,
no playacting,
no terrified attempts
to be someone who knows
how to move, what to do,
what to decide.

There will be no more skittering
unmoored across the surface
of what calls itself our life,
no more posturing
in efforts to appear to be
someone who has arrived.

We are here.
(as clouds that momentarily disperse reveal)
We have been here for a long time
And we have always owned ourselves
And we know how to move
and what to do
and how to nourish things
and make them grow,
and how to bless,
how to be whole.

There will be no pretending,
for we are home.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 17, 2013


“To walk, by right, on the naked hills”

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The great slow-motion bounce,
accompanied by the long-sustained
expanding chord,
Captures the triumph of the forces,
the extended harmony
where everything follows
the line of intention,
Waves undulating, weaving through waves . . .

And we love the unweighting
and the sinking down
and the pressing in
and the bounding up —

Some who know
call it walking with God,
Tuning the edge of awareness,
where joy is the treasure
born of connection,
the only thing that feeds us,
the only thing we’ve sought —

A knowledge that will always rise
from the essence of our being,
that can’t remain concealed,
as it’s so thoroughly written
in the law of everything we are.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 15, 2013


A Place to Begin

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This holy starting place
is like mist dancing in bright sun rays,
like soft light sifting through eyelashes,
a meeting of our hopes, our shaggy edges.

Here’s where we give ourselves,
Surrender to the mercy of
the grace that listens,
that finds the first fit,
the clasp with which 
we slide into the dance
of deepening reverberation,
plunging into fathoms of our souls.

This is the immersion
that we came here for,
This is the draft that satisfies
our fullest essence,
This is the blessing
we have longed to give,
shining the perfection of our presence.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 14, 2013


A Staider Day

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There is a satisfaction
in crossing “i”s and dotting “t”s,
Not like the rush of flight,
not like the sweet epiphanies
that bounce, exultant, on my inner walls . . .
It’s a prosaic peace,
but worthy, nonetheless,
A nourishment that’s good in moderation,
A staider note to give a base for spices
and ground the fledgling efforts of creation.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 13, 2013


Here

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Here is the power
in what you are,
Here is the ground
you stand on,
Here is the soil
that richly holds your soul
nourished in its springy living web.

Here is the knowing
what your light can do,
Here is the strength
that fuels your song,
Here is the quiet
that births the hallowed music
that lifts you up
and bears you home.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 12, 2013


Whoosh

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Every time I think of it
it feels like the moment after
a tub of cold water was dumped
on my head —
The breath-arresting shock, the ragged
gasp, the rush of cold and wetness,
the persisting dripping,
rivulets pushing past my ears and eyes,
a pounding pulsing of my head and heart,
the tingle filling everything,
and the exhilaration as it clears . . .

It’s so astonishing
I keep on thinking of it,
keep on being dowsed with the surprise —
How I never grasped before
how much of what I thought was true
was just a ruse,
how long I’ve let myself be disempowered.
Shocking it is —
the stirrings of awakening
asserting the dissolving of a dream.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 11, 2013


Biodiversity

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Some seeds won’t sprout
in these conditions —
they’ll wait dormant
till things change,
and then, as saviors,
as tiny carriers of daring hope
of life’s return,
they’ll spring up, set their leaves,
and thrive

There may be parts of you
that haven’t sprouted,
and you may have wondered why —
perhaps you’ve doubted
life’s provision, or life’s wisdom,

But things may change
and suddenly you’ll find
a capability you never nurtured,
rising strong, growing apace
with all the needs of now,
blessing you, blessing everyone.

There’s room for all of your potential,
and it’s needed.
In its time
each gift will shine.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 10, 2013


Defending Innocence

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I stand here afterwards,
a bit bewildered —
The flames haven’t hurt me
and the smoke is clearing,
and it wasn’t exactly a battle . . .

I took a stand for innocence,
and it came under fire,
but what got singed was just
the guilty part I held within.

Unaltered was the call
to stand for innocence
and let no rising voice,
indignant, shocked, alarmed,
deflect my steady sight
of innocence inviolate —
every person’s right.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 8, 2013


Cold Snap

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Now we’re here
and what we thought we’d do
has been subsumed 
by all the day’s particulars —
the cold,
the sun’s low angle
(bleak, oblique, but warming through the glass,)
the newly rising urgencies
and their disjointed rhythms —
times of waiting spaced between demanding tasks —
So we stay home
and move within the small circles,
try to settle in,
protect the center.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 7, 2013