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.

Everyone Gets to Come

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Don’t be afraid —
Don’t look ahead in dread
of narrowing life choices,
of chances missed.
It doesn’t matter —
for in the plan of days,
Everyone gets to come.

To the grand reception
of our timeless gifts,
to the celebration
of what we’ve always been,
to the home that holds us
splendid and beloved,
Everyone gets to come.

In the great rapture
of interaction in the moment,
in that enchanting weightlessness
where you can’t tell for sure
if the impulse comes from you
or from another
(though it is yours as surely as you feel it)
In the joy of that transporting,
far beyond what you could know to ask for,
Everyone gets to come.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 16, 2013


In Bloom

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For that flower to appear,
the conditions must be just right.
It may be that it happens only once — 
Once in a lifetime, once in five hundred years —
If it were left to chance
you might never have seen it.
But you are here
and you have noticed
and perhaps you were the one
whose attentive, open gaze
and ready heart —
what brought you to this place —
are what have lent the air
these right conditions
to let this flower
open here for you.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 15, 2013


Observation

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I lie alongside myself —
it feels like two of me,
the me curled in the heart of Mind
and me imagining myself
as one observed.
The identity of the observer
is important —
When I feel that someone loves me,
the observer looks on kindly,
and I can snuggle
inside myself
assured that I belong.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 14, 2013


Designing

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It’s a funny thing
that I could so totally inhabit another world
as to make a double exposure
for my eyes:
Though I am driving here
along these roads, against these skies,
I also breathe papaya
and avocado
and sheets of rain arrested in their slide
down a humid landscape,
and cool tile floors offering respite

And if there is a way
to really harness this power,
we’ll be off and away,
making things real,
bringing one or more new worlds
into the light of actual day.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 13, 2013


Butterflies

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(notes on the second summer five-women gathering)

Let us melt
into the soft, orgasmic
surrender
where everything that we’ve accumulated —
the triumphs and the woes,
the stories of what’s happened,
the win and lose of what we have become —
dissolve into imaginal potential
for our metamorphosis
into our own.

What we have called a false start
or called a failure,
or called a choice that didn’t do us good,
all serve as food for our unfoldment,
unmarred by scars from anything we’ve done.

Here in this company
we feel our wings expanding
just like our hearts
that hold each other whole —
the selves we own
by seeing them reflected
in kindred eyes that shine the light of Soul.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 10, 2013


Homecoming

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We all come around to the same thing —
Some through worship,
some through reckless living,
some through questing,
some through steady working.

At whatever place we put our efforts
We start to break in —
The walls of our illusion start to thin,
so we can glimpse the wideness of our being;
The floor of our confusion fades away
and shows the wondrous depth
to which we reach.

So we focus,
so we understand
the nature of eternal God within,
the sweet imperative of the I AM.
And everyone we thought was so impossibly diverse
We’ll see, now, with the welcome eyes of oneness,
And everyone we thought that we could never comprehend
We’ll see as neighbor, recognize as friend.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 9, 2013


Harvest

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I kept walking through spider webs.
Even when I tried not to,
even when I held out my hand against them,
still I would feel the sudden threads across my face,
hear the tick of breaking strands,
feel the sticky tickle in my hair.
As I’d recoil to free myself,
I’d hit another.

Yes, they were busy.
But I still got a free harvest
of sour purple-blue berries
pulled from their red stems.
I boiled them with sugar
to obtain a bright elixir
And I felt rich
and grounded,
at one with the earth
on which I have a right to walk,
on which I belong.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2013


Other Plans

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The world, as it turns out,
is not constructed with words,
not made of plans and cardboard resolutions,
Does not need to be specified,
evaluated, modified,
Nor do you need to make yourself fit in it.

The world has its own logic:
Cleave to it!
It will take you through soft, cool hollows
and up and down along the curving ground,
Sunlight will strike you,
and shifting shade,
and you’ll be enchanted.
You’ll find your hunger sweet
and its fulfillment
more delicious than you ever could prescribe.
You’ll find everything you need,
even the meeting of your need to give.

It isn’t, as it turns out,
something you needed to design
or could have forced to come out differently.
Live in it!
It will take you in its arms
and you’ll be glad,
for it was made with you in mind.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 6, 2013


Let Go

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Every child of Life
if free to move
will home unerringly —
some in a direct line,
some with wild and bouncing flailing,
ranging off in many far directions,
needing to stretch out, to try
the whole span of the force —
needing to feel the centering pull
assert itself against their surging motion.

Let them free —
They all will come home,
though you can’t know their course,
and maybe they won’t either.
The law that constitutes them,
the force that animates their core,
the Love that owns them
will guide their way.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 5, 2013