There is no bridge
from lack to bounty,
no accretion that won’t sink
into the endless, desperate pool of want,
and that is why we won’t go there
We’ll start out where we are,
with here, with presence,
we’ll let the tendrils of awareness
reach in deep
to find the fact
that we have always been supplied
with plenitude, in everything we need.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 7, 2019
Let me wake up to presence
and feel the substance of it,
how it fills up everything —
time and space and consciousness
Let me feel how presence
is both mine and its own,
how it speaks to me,
how I embody it
See? I can’t be absent
any more than presence can be gone,
and I can’t fail to dwell in presence,
the all, the law, of here.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 28, 2018
Lift up your eyes from the rubble —
these blocks are broken, crumbled,
they will not be re-stacked, reset,
they won’t be home or citadel
No use to pore, again,
through all the plans,
no use to wonder
where they were wrong
or why they failed
to keep the city from going under
Let us arise and build —
not with these
but with the substance
we are made of —
bright vectors of intention,
strong cords of close connection
and the steady purpose
that knows us even when
we don’t know it, the one
that guides us ever to our own.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2017
You could see how
the Spirit might take
any one of them,
how they would be filled out,
would take shape
from the rushing power
that formed them from within
You might notice
how they really never
were anything else, how they are
maybe not so much Spirit-filled
as Spirit comprised,
maybe the most joyful
the less they hold onto
the thought of being the envelope,
the more they embrace Spirit
as their very essence.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 3, 2017
Isn’t it obvious
that all this time
we couldn’t have been
holding ourselves up?
(As scientists posit “dark matter”
because there isn’t enough substance
in the known universe
to pull itself together)
(As it is clear
that if we needed to rely
on our paltry interactions
to create love,
we could never do it)
When the mighty rush
of Love, its sheer infinity,
bears us up, carries us along,
powers our swoops,
becomes our song,
then we know what holds us,
what held us all along.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 5, 2017
The treasures of the true world,
the harmony, the peace, the immortality,
can’t be taken back
into the false world
You can’t adorn yourself with them
to raise your status, can’t teach them
to those you peg as fools.
They are, in fact, as useless there
as sun sparkles, for paying off of debts
The treasures of the true world
must be enjoyed right where they are.
There’s no need to go back anyway —
why not stay
in the consciousness of omnipresent good?
©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2017
The loop and curl
of hunger met,
the kiss of being needed,
the feeling in one’s body
of being beloved
and what it does
to the curve of one’s form
We live for these things.
which we find as we plant ourselves
face to the earth,
wet with the dew of heaven,
taking seven times, or as long as it takes
to enter the territory
where no words have been there yet,
where they must arise
out of the ground of experience,
long enough after the fact
to truly be real.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 5, 2017
How can we leave? you said,
How can we let this all go?
We let it go because it never held us —
We held it, just as we hold ourselves.
We contain each feeling we’ve imbued this place with,
we take the substance with us
when we go
After all, we always have been travelers —
before our birth, and through this time
and onward,
we move, to our delight,
in waves of constant newness,
explorers of infinity,
our never ending home.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 11, 2017
From this side
it feels like Spirit sifts me
and all that is opaque
falls by its weight
while all that is transparent
dances and shines,
proving its substance
by how it stands unmoved
by tugs upon it,
and how it swoops and dives
unwavering from Spirit
It is my heart’s deep joy
to be found thus,
and I sense
that from the other side
there is no sifting,
but just that Spirit
knows its own.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 2, 2017
The energy that makes you,
that holds you as a standing wave,
your essence ever moving,
your particles suspended,
can never cease from being what it is
and so can never drop you
The pulsing of the fact of you
continues unobstructed —
no other source exists,
no other impulse
Your pure intention, lightly clad,
is more than match
for any armored machination,
as a pile of dust, however mammoth,
is no match for a breath of wind.
Look how strong you stand,
look how unmovable —
Goliath never stood a chance
against your truth.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 7, 2016