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