ties that bind

the circle unbroken








the circle is not broken,
rather, it is forged anew
each time we come together
with intention to connect,
with care for our own selves,
with care for the other,

our circle holds in a meeting for worship
and many speak as that within must be without,
as each speaks to ties that bind,

and, though we soon will fly asunder
with our other trajectories and other circles,














the circle that has us within nature,
connected to ourself and to others,
will not be broken
unless we forget to remember the circle,
and that it is unbroken.

by Henry H. Walker,
May 26, ’11

a personal journey

to know another

how can we ever know another?
what comes in that pair of eyes?
where mind and imagination go with that perception?
what the self within makes as the disparate becomes one?
how can we ever know another?

when others share pieces of that personal journey,
I marvel at the different paths that open up
and take me down them
as I leap into the alternative universes
that exist as surely as the one within which I live,
sometimes I just smile in wonder
at the coolness of a new perspective,
and, at other times, I feel pain and the tears come easy,

when I know the truth of another,
at least the truth that seems sure
by all the objective criteria I know,
the person herself, himself instead
can feel trouble well up within,
disturbance come toward them from without,

I wish they could see themselves as I see them,
and love themselves as I love them.

by Henry H. Walker,
May 25, ’11

to soar

Peregrine Falcon

“Where’s the ridge you’re talking about?
Is it below where that bird is flying?”








and my world turns right side up,
for he seems to have spotted the birds I’ve sought
so many times here over the years,
I excitedly point with finger and words,
more and more sightings around the knife-edged ridge,
above it flaps and perching,
and we suddenly notice high-pitched calls, almost squabbling,
I use my long lensed camera to reach out,
to understand,
to record,
to save for later,








I joy that the peregrine falcon seem to be back before me,
these unsurpassed hunters of the sky,
they who our chemicals drove away
and the actions of our apology invite back.

I am beside myself
as I reach to soar with them,
we humans truly soar best
when we feel as one with the rest of nature.

by Henry H. Walker,
May 25, ’11

how we see ourselves

out of doors

when we consider just who we are,
exactly where do we see ourselves?
as we step away and look back at ourselves,
are we inside a building,
surrounded by the stuff our fellows have made?









or are we at the top of a mountain,











by the great mother sea,
by a creek tumbling with it back toward the sea,
or in a forest with our family of plant and animal?

the very words we use might answer the question,
for if we say “outdoors”
does not our deepest self feel itself to be inside?

by Henry H. Walker,
inspired by Jack St. Clair
May 25, ’11

LeConte '11

up and down the mountain








we hike more together today than do my usual groups,









the diversity of age and gender and ethnicity
expresses a way of how different we all are,
yet each rhythm moves
in sympathy and harmony with the others,
to express how much we are together,










up here on top of the mountain blue speaks to me today










whether in the fractured smooth rocks where I sit,
in the hues of cloud dappled sky
in its dissolving into the rippled ridges ranged before me,
they, like a rumpled bed, remember the tossing & turning
as plates dreamed hard against each other,
now the bed is all smoothed over
by millions of years of rain & life’s making,

on the way down the mountain
the vivid blue of the bluet whispers sharp to me time & again,








the loose rocks on the trail
and even spruce sap, weeping down a large trunk, still speak in blue,








for the soul to be so lifted up as I feel today
the body has to do the heavy lifting,
how ironic,
I simultaneously feel energized, and exhausted.

by Henry H. Walker
May 24, ’11

grounding

Indian Gap

we immerse ourselves in a recreated Cherokee village










and hear of how an earlier people, a more basic people,
lived their lives below and among these grand old mountains,
a gentler touch, maybe because they didn’t have bulldozers,
either in their minds or in earth-smashing fact,
maybe because they knew the world
and they knew themselves,
and they knew how and when to yield
and how and when to not,

here native peoples crossed these mountains
by foot on this trail for near 10,000 years,
from when this high up was above tree line
to when Europeans spread across the land like the spread of a virus,














my students spread about the Gap
with spruce-fir for their backdrop,
soft fragrant needles below,
prickly bark at the back,
needles on the trees so dark
it’s as if black merged with the green,
a wild cherry tree lightly in bloom at the center,








a muse must be whispering to each
who sit here so open and capable,
processing place and experiences,

and I yearn to hear
what the universe messages through them,
as each seeks to make sense of place, experience, and self.

by Henry H. Walker
May 23, ’11

letting the best out

a leap, and the footing?

I believe in every student, in every class,
I particularly joy when the evidence before me
fully and deeply supports my belief in my students,

I will continue to leap with my faith
with no sureness of the footing beyond,
I thank my stars for how often I find solid ground,
as my students find the way to succeed
in letting the best of themselves out,

would that our politicians would do so well.

by Henry H. Walker
May 20, ’11