Within the fractal realms of thought
are many passages –
some slide along the straight planes,
worn and smooth,
and some escape –
revealing with their flight
a new dimension,
leading up to newer ways to see
I like to go there,
dart along the karsts
to greater heights,
return with treasure,
collect the lights –
each moment has its opportunity
to find and keep some more of what is true for me.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 14, 2023
My arms hold the memory
of taking big clumps of turf by the hair,
beating them against the ground or each other,
grains of dirt flying up
My eyes hold the memory
of thick webs of roots, intricate when exposed,
after I’ve beaten the dirt off
My mind takes these images,
matches them with things in my life,
tenacity, stories, things people try to explain,
it matches them up and drops them
like clumps of sod,
to be considered later.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 5, 2023
Maybe I’ve used up all my words,
except the ones that will describe
the thoughts that haven’t fully proved themselves
The thoughts are eager. They want to save the world.
They are sure they can, sure their lens,
with dedicated focus, can burn through every lie
The words are watching. They’ll choose
and arrange themselves, once they’ve seen
something certain. Meanwhile they think
there’s nothing new and true enough
for them to say.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 22, 2023
These are fluid things,
silver, eager, bright –
they move quickly into any shape suggested.
When you observe their shape,
they take that image in,
use it to reinforce the picture,
make it seem more true
When you assign a cause,
a reason, a history,
they weave that in, too,
till you might think they had existence
independent of your thought,
might find them to comprise a solid obstacle
They mean no harm –
they live to serve –
they don’t intend to trap you –
give them the guidance
to shape your truest hopes –
they’ll shine them forth
in beauty and delight.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 8, 2023
I stand here at the beginning,
having spent so many years
in the illusion of paths,
the illusion of progress
Gather, my thought forces –
we will go together from now on.
You will no longer be repositories
of false starts and dead ends
I will listen to you, and we will listen,
together, to what calls us to life,
what unifies us, and unites us
with others who are traveling
I’m sorry for all my foolishness.
But there is a way before me now
which promises to steer me wise.
I give us to that purpose
day by unfolding day.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 23, 2023
It’s morning, and I’m headed home,
across the sound, across the sky,
my ranging thoughts preceding me –
how wide they fly
Could be we’re always going home,
drifting steadily on friendly winds,
finding ways to stretch in our expression
of what we are, and what can draw us on
Could be that what we grasp in glimpses,
the singular bright moments of the day,
will own us more and more, till we inhabit
a realm of light, a swift expanding way.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 30, 2022
In this home of my mind
I endeavor
to welcome anyone who comes to thought,
to see them, and to wash their feet,
give them a cozy place to rest
and lots of room to stretch
In this home of my mind
I endeavor
to keep out wayward cobwebs
of old presuppositions
and to challenge the impostors
before they make it to the door –
I won’t let lies regarding me or you
clutter up the corners
or hold court
Fear and frustration
will find no lodging here.
Courage is welcome,
as is grace.
In this domain I find my power
and strive to use it
in every place.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 7, 2022
The early morning and I
meditate on being new
(after I stumbled here,
protesting for more sleep),
it having arrived with much more grace,
fog first, then high fluffy clouds,
tinged with pink
Right here, it shows me,
is the perfect place to start,
every thought fully able
to express the light, the dew,
none of them needing to rehash
some old argument, or even
a recent one. Every thought
can take this in, can bring forth
something completely new.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 28, 2022
I am no longer willing
to let just any thoughts
set themselves up like spiders
in my mind, constructing their cobwebs,
leaving their frass about
My mind is my temple,
my mind is my citadel,
and all the thoughts are called to service –
they must radiate
the great calm of truth,
they must establish peace
and see it take hold
within the whole of me
and all throughout the land.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2021i
My mind is written through today
with double lines, as when you write
with broken chalk, where two edges
touch down at once,
my words over my words,
my thoughts looped back,
noticing the echoes
I don’t want to do it often –
it has a graying effect,
like much-used blackboards,
or like checking my phone
far too many times
The afternoon is not like that –
each sun-touched fir and fern
floods itself with presence –
no thoughts of past or checking for the future,
taking in each golden ray of now.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2021