Another arrow to the heart

Abandoned. 

That’s how it feels. 

 Why does my heart ache 

When I look at this picture? 

Somehow the truck becomes 

Symbolic 

Of all the souls abandoned, 

Left behind and lost 

By those who had the wherewithal to save them. 

And now, each day, 

Another arrow to the heart…

As if…

Crossing the bridge at sunset, 

Something inside me thrills to see 

Sun streaming across the water, 

As if nothing’s changed; 

As if the world’s still beautiful, 

Brutality, prejudice and greed — 

Just things of the past, 

Fading before waves 

Of compassion and justice…

There is still beauty

In that last bright burst of color 

Before night claims the sky 

All the familiar landmarks fade 

 In black obeisance to beauty. 

Yes, there is still beauty, 

Though it’s easy to forget 

In times like these.

Easily startled

A rush of wings,

And the starlings are back, 

To lift and land as one, 

Decimating our bird feeders 

And filling the sky with iridescent murmurations: 

A social media frenzy without the media — 

Easily distracted, easily misled, easily startled 

Into foolish flights of fancy…

Choose wisely

The mountain doesn’t change in the night: 

It’s the clouds who surround her 

That hide or draw attention to her beauty — 

Just as the friends we choose, 

The decisions we make, 

And the words we use give clues 

To both the majesty and flaws 

That lie within us: choose 

Wisely.

Cowering in the shadows

Even this tiny one-eyed shell, 

Cowering in the shadows 

Of broken concrete 

Awakens my sympathy. 

How much more so do we ache 

For all those who now live in fear 

Of deportation?

Impeaching peace

The lovely blush of morning 

Turns our distant clouds to peach:

 Is that impeachment? 

 And how sad is it, 

That that’s where my mind goes; 

That frustration continues 

 To shade my thoughts; 

To overlay visions of peace 

With shades of hope and loss?

Is art enough?

I never wanted this blog 

To be about politics; 

 To add another voice to the rising chorus 

 Of horror and frustration. 

 But is it enough to continue offering

A peaceful respite from the fray? 

Can that serve as a reminder 

That everyone deserves peace and compassion? 

Art as solace in hard times?

Uplifting

Watching from my kitchen window 

As he floats gently by, 

I smile at the sense of freedom that must give, 

To rise above our earthly cares and squabbles 

And just breathe with the wind…

 I need to find some other ways to lift my soul.

Cold, cold, cold

After a relatively warm winter, 

We had our first frost this morning: 

the tip of my garden Buddha’s head 

is covered with ice. 

It seems somehow appropriate;

 so many hearts left out in the cold today…

Into the echo chamber

Yesterday, disheartened 

by the recent changes in policy on FaceBook,

 I made the tough decision 

to stop posting these pieces there. 

I will miss that community 

of friends old and new from lives past and present, 

but I'm tired of being bombarded 

by ads i don't want for things I don't need, 

and I'm sad the restrictions 

 on lies and hate language have been taken away. 

I've been accused of moving to an echo chamber, 

but the only echoes I hope to hear 

are of kindness and compassion: 

may they continue to resonate throughout the earth.

I was so disheartened 

By the recent changes in Facebook policy 

that I decided to take flight. 

I will no longer be posting there, 

but you’ll still be able to find me here, 

and I’ve also begun posting on BlueSky 

as dwalkerarts; Hope we can stay connected!

Flame-red reminder

As the characteristic reds and greens 

Of Christmas slowly fade, 

We’re left to face again 

The subtle grays of winter: 

Of clouds and leafless trees, 

 Of icy streets and melting snow, 

The wisps of fog above the lakes, 

The smoke from stoves and fires 

And the ash they leave behind — 

And there it is again, flame-red reminder 

Of the monumental losses 

Being faced in California; 

The unfathomable magnitude of destruction.

Misconceptions

How is it that some ideas 

Get so embedded that we can’t let go, 

But seem to grow around them; 

Hold them closer to our hearts 

Until we confuse them with our souls? 

Even when they’re foreign to our nature, 

We hang on, clutching them like stones, 

Ready to hurl at the next unbeliever, 

In spite of everything that tells us 

There’s a chance we might possibly be wrong…

Symmetry

I remember, as a child, 

Arranging candles on the mantelpiece, 

And my artist mom coming to correct me,

 Moving two to one side and one to the other, 

Explaining that asymmetry is preferable 

To symmetry — an early version, I suspect,

 Of the rule of thirds I later learned — 

And yet, like many humans,

 I still am drawn to symmetry,

 In landscapes and in faces, 

And wonder if that rule exists 

To ensure that it sets art apart 

As different; a new way of seeing. 

So, though I understand the rule 

And use it to advantage, 

I still find scenes like this quite appealing😉

Losses too huge to process

With time we learn from the sun and moon 

That trouble, pain, and change are like the clouds: 

They may slide in and out again,

 Or they might stay for days, 

But for the most part they will pass 

And the good times come again. 

But how can we begin to process 

Losses of this magnitude, 

When so much has been taken, 

And so little left behind?

Obstacles

I loved the peace of this scene, 

But, thinking the flagpole interfered, 

Attempted to erase it, but the result — 

Once I’d accomplished that — 

Was actually boring. 

It’s easy to forget 

That things that seem like obstacles 

May actually enhance our experience…

Seeking resurrection

Emerging from the shadows into the light, 

The lavender field, newly planted, 

Bares no trace of the plum-colored beauty 

It breathed at harvest time, 

But we know that along with deciduous trees 

That go bare in the winter, 

Those colors will bloom again. 

It’s harder, when looking at fire’s devastation, 

To trust that the beauty we lost 

 Might ever achieve resurrection…

Distractions

Driving forward through life, 

Whatever goals we’ve set, 

Whatever paths we’ve planned to follow, 

There will always be distractions: 

Appealing byways that tempt us 

To explore new possibilities. 

How can we best discern which choice 

Might lead us in a positive,

 Life-affirming new direction, 

And which may just be taking us 

Down a pointless garden path? 

Open mind and heart and then just 

Listen; listen and trust 

That the best way to fulfill your charge 

And realize your potential will be revealed.

From a distance

From a distance, the Nimitz looks so small, 

But I remember watching it pass 

From a ferry, which was dwarfed by its size.

 1,092 feet long, with two nuclear reactors, 

And the sailors up on deck as it sailed by 

Waving to us like tiny ants, 

 Far above our heads… 

The farther we get from the ship — or a problem, 

The smaller it begins to seem, 

And so the millions of misplaced persons 

In the Sudan seem less critical somehow 

Than the thousands who’ve lost their homes 

In California, 

And that number raises fewer concerns 

Than the prayers that rise when those we know 

Are affected. When will — or can? — 

We ever understand 

The magnitude of these horrific disasters?

Wildfires

I can’t seem to write about anything today 

But the California wildfires: 

My brother-in-law is in Altadena, 

Spending his time watering his roof 

While watching his neighbors’ houses burn; 

My son-in-law is hosting his displaced siblings… 

I ache for them, and the 70,000 others 

 Who’ve been displaced, 

 Those who’ve lost their homes and their cars, 

The thousands more who are without power, 

And the exhausted and overwhelmed ones 

Who are still fighting the fires. 

Lord have mercy on all who suffer here.

Small blessings

It’s funny, how the red and green of Christmas

 Keep resonating after the holiday’s end: 

Did the rooster wander over on purpose,

 Knowing his wattle against the grass 

Would echo the berries in the holly tree? 

Or his feathers reflect the trunk? 

Of course not! 

 It’s simply an accidental concurrence, 

But amusing to note, all the same — 

One of many small blessings 

To warm the watching photographer’s heart.

Majestic presence

Clear days are rare for us this time of year, 

So we rejoice when the mountain emerges — 

Even if only for an hour or two — 

From her ever present blanket of clouds 

And lift a toast (just coffee or orange juice) 

To celebrate her majestic and grounding 

Presence in our lives.

A healthy distance

Having once lived like this, 

On the edge of the world, 

I feel no envy as I float by on the ferry: 

It was truly lovely to live so close to the sea, 

But I don’t miss the thrill of sandbagging 

Or losing cars and propane tanks 

To the winter tides: 

To live a healthier distance 

 From the sea we love so well 

Has been a blessing — 

Though we miss the beach, 

We still enjoy the view. 

So many of the learnings that come with age 

Involve just that: discovering healthier distance 

And establishing better boundaries…

A floral blessing

Ah, the blessing of a gift of flowers in midwinter:

 Such a treat to appreciate their fragile blooms 

And delicate scents when future looms 

So cold, and storms and power losses threaten…

Collaboration

A small piece I developed as a class exercise 

Appealed to a friend, so I gave it away. 

She took it to a framer — much to my surprise — 

And now look: it’s a lovely piece of art! 

We must never forget 

What a difference context makes: 

There’s a gift in learning to see 

The special potential that can emerge 

From a carefully considered collaboration. 

Working together, it can be possible to produce Something new and unexpected; 

A delightful, more creative, 

 And even more appealing whole.

Wondering

Standing in the kitchen 

As my morning coffee perks into being, 

I watch as the ship passes Mount Baker 

On its way to Seattle and wonder: 

Who’s on board? Where are they from, 

And what’s in their containers? 

How long have they been at sea, 

 And don’t they miss their families? 

And do their hearts still thrill 

To the pink sun on the mountain 

And the way the colors echo in the water,

 Or has the long journey jaded their reactions?

Community: true or false

Like so many birds, flocking together, 

Or sheep, we follow these trends: 

What we eat, what we read, what we wear — 

It’s all there; you have only to look, to see 

We are not only creatures of habit, 

We’re hungry for belonging, 

And eager to fit in; the outliers are few, 

And far between. What does it mean? 

Could it be there’s something missing, 

Some hole we need to fill? 

Or were we consciously designed 

 To crave community; it’s just easier 

To mask our differences 

Than to work towards a true collaboration?

A new day

A new day dawns, ushering in 

 Yet another new year; 

Yet another opportunity 

 To create, to reform, 

 To be thoughtful and kind and generous; 

To resist and fight back; 

To love and find love; 

To bear witness to all that is good in the world; 

That is fragile and precious, 

Brave and unique and endangered — 

Yes you, who are all of those attributes and more, 

Have been given the chance 

To be more, to explore, to give back, to redeem, 

To embrace, yet again, all the marvelous options 

 That come with a new year of life.