language and thought are wedded

 

freedom withers into greed

Milton had Satan realize the transformative power of the mind:

Heaven can become Hell, Hell become Heaven,

depending on the mind’s take on it all,

I think of Milton as I consider 

how the word and concept of “freedom” is used today:

the founders of our country wanted freedom

of religion, from religion,

of escape from tyranny 

where one’s life is subject 

to the whim of monarch, of government,

of escape from the past becoming destiny:

life of son to reprise life of father,

life of daughter at the whim of husband,

they sought freedom of thought,

of speech, of individuality,

now many minds seem to confuse freedom with license,

freedom equals greed, self-indulgence,

a fundamental reshuffling of the idea,

the lesser within people wants to not be shackled 

to community, to the other, to growing up:

I don’t want to wear a mask,

and I don’t care what that might do to another,

I don’t want to pay any taxes,

and I just want to spend on myself,

I don’t want to feel how my words can disturb another

so I argue for the freedom to be rude

and disparage politeness and inclusivity as “political correctness,”

such self-centeredness allows us 

to let the forests be cut down, to burn,

to let fossil fuels be consumed with abandon:

my car, my boat, my plane,

my unfettered tread upon the Earth,

more important than my grandchildren’s future:

supersize my gluttony rather than diet,

live for the summer and not prepare for the winter:

we can be the grasshopper and not the ant,

language and thought are wedded,

and I don’t like the cheating

that withers freedom into greed.

by Henry H. Walker

September 28, ‘20

almost Autumnal Equinox

 mid-September in the Piedmont

the air-conditioner just cut off,

and a bird asserts whatever its agenda is,

most of the natural world is quiet in sound now,

though loud in feeling summer ending

and fall impinging,

daylight lessens,

more birds argue their points:

territory? mating?

just wanting to be noticed?

in the garden okra asserts its usual exuberance,

pumpkins start to swell and ripen,

tomatoes hold on,

though only the yellow cherry 

seem to have their heart in it,

the tomatillos shout their presence,

the basil still gives but it’s tired,

the Kentucky Wonder pole beans are nearly ready

to release the string beans

that define their species at its best,

the buttercrunch lettuce germinates,

a second planting since the first evaporated

into but a few surviving seedlings,

in the yard black-eyes susans are glorious

in the beauty of their will,

I worry about the mountain laurel

who flared more and better than ever before,

and now has a yellow to its green where it flowered,

the year seems tired, or maybe I’m just projecting,

the next day cooler air braces me to wake up.

by Henry H. Walker

September 14, ‘20

dimensions call me

 pictures are windows

I fill the walls in our house

with pictures I have taken

when a place has felt special to me,

each a grounding in a memory

that flares a light

into dark corridors of where I was,

of who I was, intensely, at one time,

and who I still am if I but remember,

if I but realize that each step along the way

can open a window,

a window that lets my soul plummet through it,

and I am awake to the moment,

to another piece of who I am,

easily we can let present moments

hold us in the two dimensions

of the surface upon which we live,

as if we are but fragments caught in a river,

I want to add both depth and height: 

the churning levels within us,

the heights to which we aspire,

I want to add back the past

where I constructed much of who I am,

I want to reach toward the future

within which I hope to become even more

who I can be at my best,

the pictures on my walls and within my heart

remind me to give myself fully to life,

the universe gifts us many chances

to make the most out of who we can be.

by Henry H. Walker

September 10, ‘20