the loss of an oak

 a hole in the canopy, and in my heart

a large red oak has prospered on the hill of our land,

shielding the house, and the solar panels,

I thought about removing it a decade ago,

but the solar gain seemed not worth the communal loss,

then a fungus worked its way into the first 10 feet of its base,

and a few months ago orange mushrooms

festooned from its infection,

and we feared a fall so close to the house,

with no rancor, but with a lot of efficiency,

⅔ of its branches were removed,

much left to reduce into firewood,

much leaf and branch reduced to pieces,

sprayed into a truck to await becoming humus, I hope,

I honor this great red oak,

I mourn its loss to the acre of our home,

like the bear that broke into the mountain cabin,

for the safety of home it had to be removed,

tomorrow the rest should come down

and be transmuted into firewood and pulp,

the invading fungus no longer active,

I wonder if the life in the roots will find a way forward,

or just be a slow forgetting, a passing away,

I want to honor a great tree

and remember it fondly 

within the limits of my short-lived species.

by Henry H. Walker

November  15, ‘24

a week after the Election

 

who we see in the mirror

I came back home the day before the Election

so that Joan and I could be together

to deal with whatever might happen,

the optimist in me hopeful that the country would choose

an inclusive vision to embody who we have been as a country

and build toward a future

greater than the whims of narcissism and retribution,

a friend years ago argued

that politicians should live for a time

on only what they could pay for with minimum wage, 

no wonder that those who have to settle 

for what the minimum gives them as their share 

are so angry at the rules of this game,

at the lack of politicians knowing their world,

the voters this time chose to knock over the table of the game,

without really knowing what happens next,

we had little idea that resentment and the price of eggs

could emotionally hijack so much of the country,

while masquerading as rational choice,

the system is not working well enough for them

so they chose to break it,

far too many of us chose to trust our well-being

to an angry, cognitively-declining male

who promised all will be well,

despite how many steps he demanded

that would have disqualified him to many previous generations:

mass deportation of would-be citizens,

abandoning Ukraine to Russia's greed,

enshrining tax policy to continue to allow the wealthy to pay little,

and caring nothing about deficit spending

and the burden that self-indulgence places on our grandchildren,

stopping the government from helping with rules, with infrastructure, 

with protecting people from the whims 

of profit-hungry corporations, power-hungry billionaires,

this last week I have chosen to tend my figurative garden,

I quit binge-listening to political news,

to the ins and outs of disasters, current and impending,

I got lost in an Audible book

of science/natural philosophy persevering during the Middle Ages,

I finished compiling my poetry of '24,

and creating a booklet of the questions and answers

that have suggested themselves to me the last year,

I finished planning and ordering calendars

of the Smokies, of Maine, of our visit to Germany,

I worked to deal with the fallen leaves that cover the ground

and smudge the view of what's underneath them,

there's a meditation I am cautious about embracing:

"they are the real lovers of God

who feel others' sorrows as their own,"

I need to choose to empathically leap

only into some of what might be coming at us,

I need to learn and act upon my carrying capacity,

I learned in graduate school the primacy of helping kids

develop a "crap detector," so that each can know

how flimsy the argument is if it's built on sand,

in our current case the sand that we choose to value

is on the Internet and on Fox "News,"

my heart aches for our grandchildren

who would like our country to be as a city on a hill,

inspiring all in the world to be their best,

rather than a fortress of our tribalism

while we look out for #1

and deny the equal humanity and value of the other,

when we look at our reflection to know who we are,

I still hope for love to expand us

to see all of Creation looking back at us.

by Henry H. Walker

November  12, ‘24

Election '24

 

A Faustian Gamble

the day of the election:

we are at a cusp,

and I hope that enough citizens of this country

will choose a leader who leads us to a tomorrow

worth waking up for,

rather than a malignancy on the body politic,

I wore a black armband the day after Reagan was elected,

I marked his racist tendencies,

his assault on higher education

and on our equalizing tax structure,

let alone the big stick of his military passion,

yet he also was rational

and bought into the traditions of the republic,

I fear the scorched earth potential of our decisions today,

a day later,

and I am shocked at how many of my fellow citizens

voted for a person in steep cognitive decline,

circling the wagons against the other,

luxuriating in the triumph of their feelings,

the South did rise again,

that generations long grievance against the North,

against cities, against the "holier than thou" attitudes

they felt slapping them in the face,

it is as if in revenge for the future rushing at us,

a grasping at a past that was only "great" for some,

I do not like learning answers

as to why and how the Roman Empire went away,

much of our country is still vibrant 

and ready for a transcendent tomorrow,

far too many of us voted 

to return to a past that really never was,

I fear for how much will be lost in this Faustian gamble.

by Henry H. Walker

November  5-6, ‘24

a door, not a wall?

 

the human and bear world

I love for my world to touch another's world,

for then I can work to understand and appreciate

what we have in common

and what diverges from my first self-centered take on it all,

diversity seems to scare some,

for difference feels of the stranger, and the stranger is to be feared,

rather than just different strokes for different folks,

our differences can be more like spices

that actually set off and thus enhance

what we have in common,

and let us grow toward what we can like in the other,

our family, who we are becomes bigger,

and even more toward the whole we hope for,

a bear crosses the creek,

strolls between our house and the neighbor's,

he doesn't know me,

and if I appear to him as stranger,

as different, intruding on his world,

he can be defensive,

otherwise, he calmly goes about being just who he is: 

interested in his surroundings, hungry, snacking before dark,

sound is often how he is activated to worry,

I am careful where to place my feet

among the dry, crinkly leaves of this time of year,

I move slowly, I move especially when his eyes look away,

still his poor eyesight and excellent hearing, warn him,

and he makes a desultory feint charge toward me, his heart not really in it,

I just pause and do not move,

he reverts to just being in his own world,

walnuts on the ground grab his hunger,

and his powerful jaws emphatically break them into food,

he sees a parked car,

an easier nut to crack,

and opens its doors,

finding a few enticing possibilities 

that he removes from the car,

he leaves,

another bear appears, savors what seeds birds have left below the feeder,

and then spends 20 minutes working to find the way to the feeder itself,

he is not successful, just as many hunts are not,

here at our mountain retreat

the human world and the bear world

shift back and forth into and away from each other,

I want the edge between our worlds

to be a door, and not a wall.

by Henry H. Walker

October 29, ‘24