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

she told me writing would save my life

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

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

just like the burgundy beat

of fingertips on a table’s edge

or the golden tone of a voice singing

“like an old friend to save your life”

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

Who’s reading me?

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

fractions of memories

buoyant and aching

glimmers of sun and

cavernous, hollow emptiness

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

Niagara Calligraphic.jpg

"Niagara Calligraphic" by Wendy Caldwell Maloney. Watercolor. 

Click here for Wendy's artist page. 

CARRY MY COLOR

let the air blow through me

carry my color
pour it
onto the page

guide my brush

heart thrumming

sound and light

open me

I want to take you by the hand

and show you
what I see

walking
where the live edges are

sea and stones
in endless conversation

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

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

drawn deep into the woods

the silent presence
of moss

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

classical crescendos make

our hearts soar
with the poignance
of life

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

the world

language
beauty
the soft, rich thrum of guitar

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

each other’s
lives