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.

Development

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Let rain wash around my stones,
Let wind drop fallen leaves
along my fences,
Let the gathered nutrient
from all my edges
call forth ever richer
teaming life

Build up my attention along contour
so what flows to me slows down,
Drops its gift to my receiving gratitude
Let me take the time to soak it in

There is no end
to the permission Life gives
and the ever-presence
of its care,
Its willingness to bless
gives rise to ever new recurrences
of the splendid circle
where all the living things
resound in bliss.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 8, 2013


Reunion

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It was summer
and the bright, reaffirming waves
rolled down across everything
coursing through our limbs
bringing out the warm, languid affection
in which movement and laughter
flowed freely between us

It is summer again today
and we, reunited,
don’t need to work to make connection —
It’s here
in the liquid lines that join us
deeper than words,
deeper than roles,
deeper than thought.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 7, 2013


Life Song

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Let me inhabit
the song that I am,
Let its melody course
through my limbs,
Let the deep crystal harmony
roll out its hum in me
Filling my center with bliss

With the trace taste of 
dust of the high mountain rocks
washed in the snowmelt,
cleansed in its rushing fall
Telling the story
of timeless eternity,
Sending the rhythm on down,
And the soft scent of blossoms
So light and ephemeral —
Subtle insistence on living in now

Let me inhabit 
the song that I am,
Learn from my heart and my bones
How I have known this for thousands of years,
How I now come to my own.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 5, 2013


Cleansing

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I’ve been foiled by this lie before:
The curling worm cringes in
and the fleeing form
sinks down —
This is flight mode,
hide mode,
play dead mode —

It is very effective:
If I try to pry it up
it goes all slidey,
try to lift it and it shrinks back down
The more I try to get it out
the more I am enmired

But I will not give up
If I can’t engage it
(and I can’t)
Then I will flood it out
Flood it with the consciousness
of every tiny, perfect life form,
every act of love under the soil,
every handclasp, every trust,
and all the harmony inherent
in the turnings of the sky,
let those fill me up
so there’s no room
for any lie.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 4, 2013


Evening, Home

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Well, I won’t dwell on
the little unravellings at the edges —
backwash of doubts about an interaction,
nagging thoughts of having done it wrong —

Better to remember
the afternoon light
and the touch of hands
with the home-soaring
but ever unexpected joy
that flew like swallows
from the moment of connection

Better to notice
how deep and ultimately unerring
is the impulse
that stands behind me
ready to pour out
from my eyes and mouth and fingertips
when I am attentive,
when I give consent.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2013


Not what we thought

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We are the beings who fly
with our minds,
the ones who see the underlying patterns,
expressions of the matrix
of all the rolling powers,
everything that moves
in the stately flow
afforded by eternity,
infinitely fast or slow,
ineffable

We are the beings who find the fulcra
where the patterns turn,
and with our understanding,
we can touch them
so they bloom
into ever more involved unfoldment
Not hemmed in by these,
the temporary forms we thought defined us,
not condemned to stumble blind
amid the powers that bind us

We are the beings who ride,
standing, reins in hand,
down the face of nature’s spirals
Let us remember
We are not helpless,
not what we thought.
When we hold strong
in humbleness and service,
We’re so much more.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 2, 2013


Earth Song

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Hush, hush,
Let yourself curl
in and in along the folding currents
of yourself,
in that weightless place
from whence you came,
in the inner infinite,
until you hear
a murmuring of waves

This is the song
the earth sings to herself,
in the depths of her continental shelves,
in the swinging of her tides
and the slow shifting at the molten edges
of her plates

Trees reprise it to their sleeping seeds,
in reaching roots, in weathered memories;
Winds take up its refrain 
as warm air slides up sensually 
along the sinking bank of cool;
Rills whisper it to rivulets
which join in choruses of creeks
which fall to streams
which roar in rivers —
ever-present hum of life
reminding us
where we come from
and where we gratefully, unerringly 
return.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2013


Undercurrent

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The swift water runs
under my breath
it is dark and deep
it is not silent
but its tone is so low
it went unnoticed
till I dipped my hand in
and felt its power.
Now it lends a small distortion
to my vision:
I may miss things
on the daylight plane
and notice after a while
that my thought is running
with its current
its murmurings
overwhelming my words.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2013


The Sea of Yes

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A sea of possibilities,
a vision coalescing,
disparate desires solidifying,
image of a harmony emerging,
which, if achieved, 
would hold the promise
of unfathomable bliss
that when you taste
will fill your heart with longing
till your mission is 
to make it come to pass

But all the while the subtle sea is shifting
and you can see it’s not in you
to engineer a change —
Just in that moment, you saw
how your thought was drifting
from the perfect vision to the things
you’d need to rearrange . . . 

A sea of possibilities:
Close your eyes and rest
and let your vision reemerge
in the sea of yes.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2013


Seattle Sun

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The sun comes out
just in the evening
and it is like
giddy laughter after many tears
where you can feel your breathing
like a big drama
now the storm has cleared
though there’s no guarantee
the flood will not return
on the flash of some re-tripped remembrance.

The sun has come
too late to warm the earth
but old, tall trees
shake their shaggy limbs
in deep enjoyment
and send their glow
back through
my no longer spattered windows.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 28, 2013