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WENDY CALDWELL MALONEY

Click headshot for bio

WHO'S READING YOU?

 

Who's reading you?
she asked
as though what I wrote
didn’t count
unless someone of significance

was poring over my words

and saying yes
or no

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she told me writing would save my life

it is
and it does
just like my brush on a pebbled page

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just like the endless colors I see
in every tree
and the patterns of discarded pods, pooled by rains in the street

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just like the burgundy beat

of fingertips on a table’s edge

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or the golden tone of a voice singing

“like an old friend to save your life”

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it stabilizes me
helps me know my feet are under me and my center is sound

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Who’s reading me?

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I ... am reading me

in every book
in every face
in every sound

in every bone and every perfect movement

and breath-catching pain

​

I am reading me

as I unfold

on the page

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fractions of memories

buoyant and aching

glimmers of sun and

cavernous, hollow emptiness

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Life comes at me
gently pummeling
with urgencies and scrawled notes

and when I ‘come to’ —
I troll for joy and
snatch it
as it breaks the surface
and catches the
light

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Niagara Calligraphic.jpg

"Niagara Calligraphic" by Wendy Caldwell Maloney. Watercolor. 

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Click here for Wendy's artist page. 

CARRY MY COLOR

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let the air blow through me

carry my color
pour it
onto the page

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guide my brush

heart thrumming

sound and light

open me

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I want to take you by the hand

and show you
what I see

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walking
where the live edges are

sea and stones
in endless conversation

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sink into
the cool, wet sand
the ebullient ruffle of waves

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gratitude
spills onto
our sun-drenched faces

IMG_1276.jpg

“Carry My Color”by Wendy Caldwell Maloney. Watercolor.

​

Click here for Wendy's artist page.

MY FATHER’S DAUGHTER

​

I am
my father’s daughter

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drawn deep into the woods

the silent presence
of moss

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skimming through
Canadian waters, the sun touches all pull the sail in
hand to teeth

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classical crescendos make

our hearts soar
with the poignance
of life

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tears are the vehicle of deepest expression
never a need to hide
our tender hearts from

the world

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language
beauty
the soft, rich thrum of guitar

​

through
emergent gratitude
and tragedy,
we find our way back into

each other’s
lives

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