like a dream catcher?

 

something new finds its form

though my body now feels limited in how far I can walk,

in what all I can do,

my interior world feels alarmingly sharp,

my mind blessed with a supple clarity,

so that my poetry keeps coming at me,

and rewarding my openness 

by finding and holding my thoughts on the page,

something outside me pulls at me

to notice what's going on within

so that I can access it and release it with my words,

I have a gift within me, 

maybe like the idea of a dream catcher,

or maybe like those who fish with nets,

nets to be thrown out and then pulled back,

I consider what's within

and use my gift of words 

to hold what is revealing itself,

to me it feels elemental, primal,

as if wet clay is within my fingers,

the wheel turns,

something new finds its form.

by Henry H. Walker

July 19, ‘25