still is within our hearts

 Adrian Menapace

for over 50 years I worked with middle school students,

all in the throes of developmental change,

change that was mostly of growth, of empowerment,

of the release of potential into actuality,

I watch a slideshow of the life of a former student,

who should be getting ready to celebrate her 65th birthday,

but who instead died a reality that took her away from us,

I watch a slideshow of snapshots of her life,

her bright eyes, her beaming smile,

her joy in the moments of family, of friends,

of life fully appreciated and embraced,

it throbs before me like a heartbeat,

beats surely like a clock:

enigmatic messages that can't decide

what they're saying:

is each passing beat of loss or of joy transcendent,

denying the chasm below and grasping 

at the peaks of rightness before us and within our hopes?

Adrian moved past our relationship of teacher-student,

and rightly into making her own way 

into tomorrows with those she loved,

and however she might still manifest in the universe,

I hope the universe appreciates her as do we,

we who miss the vibrant reality of who she was,

and of who we can hope she still is,

she certainly still is within our hearts.

by Henry H. Walker

June 13, ‘26

reaching to hold the truth of the shape

 

A Quaker Meeting for Worship

in a Quaker meeting for worship,

there is first an expectation of quiet stillness,

within which those present work to settle selves,

to open to thoughts arising from the center,

where all of our hearts meet,

and from which we can labor together

to open ourselves to the depths and to the heights

from which the Spirit can speak to the best within us,

we can then share Light with our words

that might illuminate a bit of the elusive shape

that aches to be noticed, to be appreciated, to be seen,

it is as if all of us are in a dark wood,

and don't yet see the path forward,

until we add the glimmer we perceive

 to the glimmers other perceive,

the presence, the shape, the direction of the path

starts to find itself real before us,

a Quaker meeting for worship is not like

revelation on a mountain where incised stone tablets are given to us,

instead, it is more like that old story

of a group of blind people working to perceive an elephant,

and each can only touch the part of the elephant before them,

in the Quaker meeting today we sought to see,

to remember, to appreciate a person we all loved,

one who is gone from our physical reality

but who is still very present 

in the reality within which our hearts live,

each person today, standing, speaking,

helped a bit of the shape of Adrian's being 

to be understood: seen, treasured, missed,

the elephant still beyond the fullness of our perception,

but the leadings of the words, together, shout of her truth.

by Henry H. Walker

June 14, ‘26

Izzi, on the way

 

Izzi, and the Grand Reveal

I keep remembering how tiny Isabel Jean was in her first days,

and still full of potential,

even as a baby she was open to this world,

open to being held,

open to trusting that this strange reality 

all about her awakening consciousness

was worth the gift of her existence,

was worth the gift of her acceptance,

was worth the gift of her acting upon it,

she will be true to the Great Reveal of self,

that trueness to what is within, when we realize

who we are at our best, which paths are the right ones for us,

no matter how obvious or hidden the Reveal may be,

I believe in Izzi and in what can come forth,

as near as I can tell, the stars are aligned for her,

and all the choices within her power

can be aligned with the universe,

as she has the courage to make her own way,

each of us is unique and still shares the journey with others,

as we climb upward on the mountain

we choose different ways,

while the journey up is, at heart, the same,

the future for all of us is uncertain,

and I trust that who she is will not be denied,

that she lives the burgeoning love and power within her,

I would not want to be an obstacle 

which places itself to block her way forward,

Izzi is, and will be, a force of nature,

it is exciting to imagine the story she will tell with her life.

by Henry H. Walker, her loving grandfather

June 7, ‘26

an easy rightness, gone

 a wrench into sorrow

I just found tears welling out of me

as I came around the corner

and felt, again, the wrench into sorrow,

the calluses on my heart drop off,

the blinders on my eyes disappear, for a bit,

and I see the chasm beneath us all,

I see the moment when the easy rightness of the present

falls off, as if it were always illusion,

this morning the baby birds in the wren nest by the back door

were fine and just waiting for mom to give them breakfast,

30 minutes later, I came back,

the nest no longer on the cabinet,

now on the brick floor of the porch,

a squirrel must have found them,

eaten them with gusto,

made his future by denying them theirs,

sorrow is often the default position of the universe,

coming around a corner and finding sorrow

should not be a shock, 

but it is.

by Henry H. Walker

June 1, ‘26

now I finally understand "denouement"

 

a creature of story

we are very much creatures of story:

protagonist, antagonist, conflict,

we are drawn to tragedy, to comedy,

to immersing ourselves in others' stories,

while also wanting to tell the story of our lives,

of having it all make sense,

with us as protagonist,

shaping, and reshaping, the world

to fit our dreams for ourself,

now I am at a point

when I'm more a bit player, an extra,

living in that nebulous world of "happily ever after,"

retirement should be of being at the top of the mountain,

appreciating the view,

appreciating the memories of the journey up,

and holding each moment of the glories sunset reveals,

while accepting the reality of the day ending,

part of me wants to be back in the action,

I throw myself into books, into streaming shows,

vicariously, I am still in living stories

that keep me alive to fear, to worry,

to the exultation when rightness is regained,

I want to still matter,

to still be worth my salt,

the story maybe is mostly finished with me,

I hope to be worth a mention

as I live the denouement.

by Henry H. Walker

June 1, ‘26

belief in self

 

self-doubt, and caution

when I would work with seventh and eighth graders,

I would have them write of who they were,

I admonished them to write more of the positive

than came easily to them,

for in the depths of themselves,

they realized the siren call of hubris, of Narcissus,

of knowing they were partway

through the process of coming fully into themselves,

and too much self-congratulation

might make them miss the hard choices

that they knew were before them,

I still feel the residue of that incipient self-doubt

that can make me obsess

on the negatives of what might happen,

sadly, that caution can be excessive,

and blind me to seeing, enjoying, appreciating

what still comes at me,

I work to be more thankful than fearful.

by Henry H. Walker

May 30, ‘26