tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85370358101832893412024-03-13T20:09:59.425-07:00Diane Walker's Poems and PhotosDiane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.comBlogger1321125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-2627745332375655622020-11-01T07:10:00.001-08:002020-11-01T07:12:09.635-08:00The end of daylight savings <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2OA39OnTec/X57OsnBt8uI/AAAAAAAAzU0/SUmX-e48qf4_9_XstKQc9QbWIRUtL8EgwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/D8AE5656-1E77-4B50-83FE-C0C251772472.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="555" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P2OA39OnTec/X57OsnBt8uI/AAAAAAAAzU0/SUmX-e48qf4_9_XstKQc9QbWIRUtL8EgwCLcBGAsYHQ/w174-h200/D8AE5656-1E77-4B50-83FE-C0C251772472.jpeg" width="174" /></a></div>It’s Sunday, and the sky is glowing <div>Pink again; doesn't the sun realize </div><div>it isn't time? According to the automatic </div><div>clock in my computer (not the one
in my kitchen, </div><div>which apparently got
ahead of itself, </div><div>somehow, in the night)
it's only 6 am. </div><div>The moon knows -- she’s still hanging in the trees, </div><div>waiting for the branches
to lower her to the </div><div>sea but they're
confused: it's hard to pick her out </div><div>when the sky's
so light, so early, </div><div>and what if they forget and leave her hanging there,</div><div>resting in the eagle's nest,
vulnerable to his claws </div><div>should he return
and find her there, cluttering </div><div>his space --
oh, wait, I see her slide into the sea, </div><div>all pink with effort to escape and yet
still fading, </div><div>overpowered by the dawn...</div>Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-79940773970334811362020-10-23T05:32:00.004-07:002020-10-24T13:23:17.422-07:00The honesty of dreams<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQCNG-XrYbY/X5SMoIs_6mI/AAAAAAAAzR0/JGyzIVV_YnsRVJFPSMf8PuxUnstFhxdrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s860/1mixed%2Bmessages.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="860" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GQCNG-XrYbY/X5SMoIs_6mI/AAAAAAAAzR0/JGyzIVV_YnsRVJFPSMf8PuxUnstFhxdrQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1mixed%2Bmessages.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>However calm or wise I feel, <br />however full of love during the day,
<br />at night my dreams reveal another story,
<br />acting out the anger and frustration
<br />that accompanies the minor slights,
<br />the tiny imperfections
<br />in an otherwise perfect life. <br />How can I delude myself
<br />that meditation's made me
<br />this kind and grateful person;
<br />non-attachment, acceptance, <br />and surrender
the order of my day;
<br /> </p><p>compassion, love and gratitude
<br />welling up from within my heart,
<br />when in my dreams I'm snarling
<br />at someone who makes me late
<br />and gritting my teeth
to see another's accolades
<br />from those who never seem to notice
who I am; <br />what I've achieved?
<br /><br />But perhaps that is the purpose of our dreams:
<br />to keep us humble, while allowing us
<br />to explore and express ego's resentments;
<br />to remind us we are human, after all,
<br />and not immune to the very weaknesses
<br />that we abhor in others.
<br />perhaps our dreams help us to love
even more broadly, <br />and forgive
even more gently <br />as we learn
we're not impervious <br />to life's selfish temptations...</p>Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-21909677434924753812020-08-23T22:34:00.001-07:002020-08-23T22:34:50.209-07:00When, o when...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Td6yOvHmzX8/X0NRBcKXLwI/AAAAAAAAy4Q/9xE0hTxsVXcslSwkLWDxIr96D_GY8gaWgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/D3CD1CCF-B97E-4C09-97CD-C77F6C2E931A.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="383" height="328" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Td6yOvHmzX8/X0NRBcKXLwI/AAAAAAAAy4Q/9xE0hTxsVXcslSwkLWDxIr96D_GY8gaWgCLcBGAsYHQ/w196-h328/D3CD1CCF-B97E-4C09-97CD-C77F6C2E931A.jpeg" width="196" /></a></div><div><br /></div>
when will it stop? <div>At what point do we break down and confess </div><div>that we can no longer bear to watch the news; </div><div>Don't want to hear the latest thing, </div><div>don't want to know what someone said </div><div>or how upset another is </div><div>to learn the latest dis-information. </div><div>True or false? these days they're both alike: </div><div>what’s true to you may well be lies, </div><div>and so might what I'm told and i believe, </div><div>and so i hibernate; sit in my chair, </div><div>play on my phone, and watch my Roomba </div><div>spinning pointlessly across the floor. </div><div>we're giving what we can, </div><div>spending where we hope it helps, </div><div>and wondering what difference </div><div>any of it makes in times like these </div><div>while penning daily words of hope </div><div>to help other lost souls keep on believing...</div>Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-56656886181917459142020-03-14T06:26:00.001-07:002020-03-14T06:26:17.114-07:00A virus in the woods<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Awakened by a gust of wind</span><br />
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
(The bedroom door,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Shuddering in its frame)</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
I sink into my husband’s arms again, and then I hear it:</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
The telltale gathering clatter of branches,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Grasping at the wind to ease their fall;</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
The slow inimitable build of sound,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
And wonder — should I be leaping out of bed?</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
What if it falls on us?</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
The final crashing thump, so close; so loud,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
And then he says, “I didn’t see a flash!”</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
“It wasn’t lightning, I reply; a tree has fallen:</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
I’ll go look,” and so, grabbing my headlamp,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
I stumble out of bed in search of answers; reassurance;</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Step out the back door, seeing nothing,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
And return to bed, uneasy, then give up </div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
And rise again to prowl the house In search of damage,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
But all our rooms are safe,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Lying quiet in the dark, untroubled by the sound,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
While overhead I hear the helicopter blades,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Far louder than the tree, transporting</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
Some unlucky soul across the water</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
To a hospital; we are safe for now,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
But for how long?</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
The virus trembles in the woods and shadows,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">
A hungry ghost, seeking its next victims...</div>
</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-7547946910080990852020-02-22T06:44:00.002-08:002020-02-22T06:44:18.468-08:00Waiting for change<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-unIbGItM3Hs/XlE-AJ8uhTI/AAAAAAAAw_A/eCf-nZqXUmMRgkWnej_DSPkqW8VjFQPEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/ED9CB244-8771-45BD-9A20-08A3DA9FAC5D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="492" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-unIbGItM3Hs/XlE-AJ8uhTI/AAAAAAAAw_A/eCf-nZqXUmMRgkWnej_DSPkqW8VjFQPEgCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/ED9CB244-8771-45BD-9A20-08A3DA9FAC5D.jpeg" width="307" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When the wait for change</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Seems to go on forever</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">It’s easy to lose your head in harsh imaginings </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Of all the possible outcomes </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We’re unable to control;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Harder by far to lean into the present</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And stay grounded...</span></div>
</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-8881429650881247142020-02-20T09:05:00.004-08:002020-02-20T09:05:42.814-08:00Butterfly<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This letting go,<br />
This paring down --<br />
It's surprising, really --<br />
What we're willing to set aside,<br />
The joy of leaving things<br />
(And lives, old definitions of our selves)<br />
Behind in the surge to something new.<br />
<br />
Middle-aged men do it (or so we're told)<br />
But here I am, so ready to do the same,<br />
So ready to say no:<br />
I don't, or won't, or can't do that any more:<br />
I'm done chewing through this trap I built myself,<br />
And happy to be on my way,<br />
Not looking back at the old cocoon,<br />
No longer nobody, small and gray,<br />
But new, reborn and flying, finally<br />
Into my own -- and possibly immortal -- skin.</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-37025279282636154082020-02-18T09:12:00.003-08:002020-02-18T09:12:29.948-08:00Trust and stay the course<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gv0aqCFhYgo/Xkwan2r6uhI/AAAAAAAAw9U/2j95vNE6G24lGDbW2S8IePDRzVn4DPQpACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/8D15E74F-0919-405B-A5F9-70A91A4A633C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gv0aqCFhYgo/Xkwan2r6uhI/AAAAAAAAw9U/2j95vNE6G24lGDbW2S8IePDRzVn4DPQpACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/8D15E74F-0919-405B-A5F9-70A91A4A633C.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Though the winds of change have filled our sails,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I worry that the light is growing dim</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">And we’ve still miles to go before</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We reach our destination.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">When will I learn to trust</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">That where I am is where I’m meant to be;</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">To stay the course and revel in</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The beauty that is Now?</span></div>
</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-36459784607009772332020-02-17T09:20:00.000-08:002020-02-18T09:21:14.774-08:00There will always be light<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eFuVTcxoKdg/XkwcQkBQAsI/AAAAAAAAw9k/U4UBi6SSHjUAynPFvSEMe4dFzbAd6c0_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/E45601B6-4620-4BA9-A70A-EC1D010A5C0B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="307" data-original-width="640" height="191" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eFuVTcxoKdg/XkwcQkBQAsI/AAAAAAAAw9k/U4UBi6SSHjUAynPFvSEMe4dFzbAd6c0_wCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/E45601B6-4620-4BA9-A70A-EC1D010A5C0B.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">However entangled our thoughts may become</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In the concerns and tribulations of the world,</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">We need to remember that however dark</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Things look, there is always some light.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-16012718307897697232020-02-15T09:31:00.001-08:002020-02-15T09:31:27.702-08:00Bright seas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xR9SlDu5e6M/Xkgqpaw_IMI/AAAAAAAAw9E/Gp-NxDa7okoz-D0hA9s5U-i9d194zrr8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/C561338E-484B-4097-B1FF-A1956B99D5C9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="640" height="268" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xR9SlDu5e6M/Xkgqpaw_IMI/AAAAAAAAw9E/Gp-NxDa7okoz-D0hA9s5U-i9d194zrr8wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/C561338E-484B-4097-B1FF-A1956B99D5C9.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br /></span>
<span style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Through the lacy ruff of trees,</span><br />
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
The long white neck of the sea</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
Gleams bright against </div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
the dark gown of the clouds,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
The shore an onyx necklace at her throat.</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
And seeing this, who could deny</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
Her beauty is divine?</div>
</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-62578529208536498682020-02-15T09:28:00.002-08:002020-02-15T09:28:48.638-08:00As we turn to flame<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0fMLG4s26iw/Xkgp7ijbOtI/AAAAAAAAw88/7Pqwu2jyrpYxGlMghPvBE-r0ADocBa01QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/8F5A835D-0D8C-4179-9257-4E2D9B6A859D.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="557" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0fMLG4s26iw/Xkgp7ijbOtI/AAAAAAAAw88/7Pqwu2jyrpYxGlMghPvBE-r0ADocBa01QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/8F5A835D-0D8C-4179-9257-4E2D9B6A859D.jpeg" width="278" /></a></div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
<br /></div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
Watching the dying tulip </div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
As her petals turn to flame</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
We feel an echo deep within:</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
A heart that aches to burn; with luck</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
That inner light glows brighter as we age,</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
Consuming muscle, leaving in its place</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
The luminous incandescence</div>
<div style="caret-color: rgb(69, 69, 69); color: #454545; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">
Of a life well lived.</div>
</div>
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-63140929692708442852019-02-28T10:04:00.003-08:002019-02-28T11:31:26.866-08:00Grieving<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FR5P9ZtJQf0/XHgjj2UNskI/AAAAAAAAutc/DCWmZzqmIm0jwHFfkIQ8gDb7DIKTEqtIACLcBGAs/s1600/1rub%2Bmy%2Bbelly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="742" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FR5P9ZtJQf0/XHgjj2UNskI/AAAAAAAAutc/DCWmZzqmIm0jwHFfkIQ8gDb7DIKTEqtIACLcBGAs/s320/1rub%2Bmy%2Bbelly.jpg" width="247" /></a>It’s weird to be grieving <br />
The loss of a cat I never liked;<br />
The only cat to whom I ever was allergic;<br />
Who cried incessantly until I picked her up;<br />
Who was only ever happy on my lap...<br />
<br />
The scent of her urine (so annoying)<br />
Stayed embedded in her fur,<br />
And my office often reeked of it.<br />
Her constant shedding clogged my keyboard<br />
And gummed up my mouse,<br />
so I confess I was grateful <br />
when the masses in her lungs<br />
(not to mention her arthritis and her asthma,<br />
her irritable bowel and the sores in her mouth)<br />
Grew too significant to be ignored<br />
And we could finally let her go,<br />
<br />
And yet...<br />
<br />
Something in me is saddened by her loss.<br />
Some part of me is grieving, <br />
Not just guilty,<br />
But regretting that I never loved enough,<br />
And realizing <br />
That all the times I told her that I loved her,<br />
When she rolled onto her back<br />
And demanded that I rub<br />
The soft fur of her belly,<br />
It was true.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-14173388460061587172019-02-16T09:31:00.000-08:002019-02-16T09:31:34.243-08:00BreakingHe sits, slumped, at the table,<br />
nose almost but not quite buried<br />
in the cauliflower she so carefully braised,<br />
hoping to stimulate his waning appetite.<br />
<br />
She’s breaking, I can see, though she hides it well.<br />
Nothing in her highly successful life<br />
has prepared her for the pain of this:<br />
the agony of watching as he writhes or slumps in defeat,<br />
the sudden cries of pain, the lack of sleep; the odors, so pervasive,<br />
the opioid prescriptions that run out all too soon;<br />
no break in the constant watchfulness; no mobility <br />
to plan or to anticipate a moment’s peace or a healing walk. <br />
<br />
We watch her breaking, brittle mirror of our own mortality<br />
for those of us who fly in, hoping to help<br />
or say goodbye – she can’t or won’t say which --<br />
and watch, him slumped, her breaking,<br />
as she clears the dishes from the table,<br />
breaking – she could throw this handmade cup against the wall, <br />
watch its breaking match her own;<br />
wishing back to when its clay was slumped upon a wheel <br />
and spun to life between her highly successful fingers;<br />
spin him back to life before he crashes into the wall <br />
of his mortality.<br />
<br />
Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-52146904911363261212019-02-15T16:48:00.001-08:002019-02-15T16:48:37.117-08:00Ah yes, the chocolateI watch as you come sliding down<br />
that long path on your sled,<br />
squealing with joy;<br />
<br />
Watch as the dog bounds up,<br />
and barks, and licks your face.<br />
<br />
Watch, and remember other snowy days,<br />
the taste of snowflakes on my tongue,<br />
the long slow slippy climb<br />
up to the top to speed back down again,<br />
the way the snow would tangle<br />
hardened lumps of ice in our wool mittens<br />
the tingling of my toes in their rubber boots<br />
when finally our mothers called us in,<br />
<br /> the redness of our cheeks, and knees,<br />
the wooden rack on which we humg<br />
our socks to drip and dry,<br />
<br />
And always, the hot chocolate; ah, yes, the chocolate --<br />
marshmellows melting in our mouths...<br />
<br />
I think I'll make some now, and skip all the rest!Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-79194163489079967462019-01-17T10:17:00.000-08:002019-02-15T16:38:34.120-08:00The lonely cypress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bafX4HyXlDQ/XFM6P8TgAWI/AAAAAAAAuhw/j7XM1yXc5d0DflEmEEoGy-jPrSZ4CwLfwCLcBGAs/s1600/1standalone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="688" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bafX4HyXlDQ/XFM6P8TgAWI/AAAAAAAAuhw/j7XM1yXc5d0DflEmEEoGy-jPrSZ4CwLfwCLcBGAs/s320/1standalone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
She stands stalwart, braced against the wind,<br />
her branches, furled like outstretched hands,<br />
reach up to touch the edges of the clouds.<br />
Alone of all her kind, at water's edge,<br />
charcoal, etched on the vast canvas of sky,<br />
an ocean of wonder roiling at her feet,<br />
sunsets to crown her queen at each day's end,<br />
and mountains to distract us in the distance.<br />
Enchanted with the scene, our eyes inhale<br />
the sea, cloud-spattered sky;<br />
the evening light a symphony,<br />
sharp counterpoint to the darkening shore. Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-52496017549680834592019-01-08T10:06:00.000-08:002019-02-15T16:39:47.667-08:00Between the showersThe rain has stopped. Let's step outside<br />
and find a path that we've not walked before.<br />
Let's treat this like the new beginning we both wish it could be --<br />
an end to tears; to winter...<br />
Imagine there are crocuses,<br />
edging us toward spring, toward tolerance, and reconciliation.<br />
We could set aside our differences,<br />
clasp hands and walk together toward the sun,<br />
inviting all the fallen leaves to dance beneath our feet,<br />
and smiling at the squirrels who scold us from the trees and beg<br />
for nuts to hide away in case it's all just an illusion<br />
and that damn-ed rain returns.<br />
Oh, never mind, it's back:<br />
I hear the clatter on the skylights and see the patterns on the deck:<br />
You can close the door.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-87899564371428388112018-12-19T10:01:00.000-08:002019-01-31T10:01:40.918-08:00These last months<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W9ELSM8RBko/XFM27N071VI/AAAAAAAAuhk/8wuUi8YJxDEmQJJo55swazMLaMd2PntkwCLcBGAs/s1600/1Bailing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="688" data-original-width="516" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-W9ELSM8RBko/XFM27N071VI/AAAAAAAAuhk/8wuUi8YJxDEmQJJo55swazMLaMd2PntkwCLcBGAs/s320/1Bailing.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I watch you bailing out the boat<br />
as if there's any chance you'll sail again --<br />
your back, so stooped with age and pain,<br />
and still you dip, and pour<br />
and dip, and pour,<br />
the water in the boat is slowly ebbing,<br />
like the life that leaves your veins.<br />
My shoulders ache in sympathy,<br />
but I'm silent: I cannot condemn<br />
your efforts to convince me -- or yourself --<br />
that all is normal.<br />
I'll watch, and smile, and throw bread to the ducks,<br />
and I'll pretend to lean on you as we walk to the car,<br />
though we'll both know the truth: you'll lean on me<br />
as long as I can stand.<br />
You'll drive, but I'll be at the wheel,<br />
following wherever you need to go<br />
to make these last months easier.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-33019323144516521162018-11-14T09:41:00.000-08:002019-01-31T09:41:41.030-08:00The cafe of my thoughtsI've grown superstitious, now that bad news<br />
seems to have taken a permanent place at the corner table.<br />
The cafe of my thoughts seems interminably busy:<br />
a never-ending rush of unexpected patrons,<br />
desperately seeking sustenance, or prayer, or simply time --<br />
some drug to slow the passage to oblivion,<br />
to keep the restaurant open, keep<br />
the dark waitress from removing<br />
the plate of life.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-78812789627494326702018-10-26T09:47:00.000-07:002018-11-01T09:48:21.700-07:00Hymn of TonglenI'm sorry you feel broken:<br />
There've been times when I felt broken, too.<br />
There's a way I've found to deal with it<br />
that might also work for you.<br />
<br />
Whatever fills your heart with sorrow,<br />
whatever causes pain,<br />
try to spare a thought for all the others<br />
who struggle with the same.<br />
<br />
Think of me,<br />
and I'll think of you,<br />
and if we all think of each other,<br />
then somehow we'll get through.<br />
<br />
Pray for me<br />
and I'll pray for you<br />
and if we all pray for each other,<br />
then somehow we'll get through.<br />
<br />
Whatever makes your heart break,<br />
there's a way to help it heal.<br />
Extend your prayerful thoughts to those<br />
who know just how you feel.<br />
<br />
One way to bear our brokenness,<br />
one way we can get through,<br />
is to breathe a prayer on behalf of those<br />
who are broken just like you.<br />
<br />
Think of me,<br />
and I'll think of you,<br />
and if we all think of each other,<br />
then somehow we'll get through.<br />
<br />
Pray for me<br />
and I'll pray for you<br />
and if we all pray for each other,<br />
then somehow we'll get through.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-6702944491713712412018-10-17T09:42:00.000-07:002018-11-01T09:43:05.277-07:00StayStay.<br />
Don't let your mind<br />
go down that dark road to loss.<br />
Be.<br />
Be here with me, and hold my hand:<br />
we'll cherish what we've been<br />
and who we are.<br />
Don't go.<br />
don't leave me here alone,<br />
the empty space beside me<br />
like a pillow puffed with pain.<br />
Hold<br />
this moment, and hold me;<br />
together we can face what lies ahead.<br />
Breathe, my love,<br />
Breathe, and then keep breathing.<br />
Please.<br />
Don't stop.<br />
Don't.<br />
Stop.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-41586170464782241822018-05-03T07:44:00.000-07:002018-05-03T07:44:39.708-07:00What lingersOld breasts can still remember from a distance of 30 years<br />
that sensation in the nipples that you feel when your child cries.<br />
<br />
Old hearts can still remember the way they used to skip<br />
when a certain someone walked into the room.<br />
<br />
Old eyes can still envision the colors of the countryside;<br />
the autumn we've not seen for many years.<br />
<br />
Old melodies still linger, and old fingers still remember<br />
how to play her favorite hymns, though her feet no longer walk.<br />
<br />
But old brains begin to stutter: Is it now, or was it then?<br />
Is this my husband or my son? This cat, so like the one I lost at 12...<br />
<br />
Old muscles, filled with memories of wounds and great adventures,<br />
will still flinch or warm at a touch, and twitch until we take that final breath.<br />
<br />
Old friends will still remember us, our families may mourn,<br />
but the love we brought into the world lives on.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-59137131936359591812018-04-14T20:54:00.002-07:002018-04-14T20:54:40.463-07:00The truth is an elephantThe truth is an elephant, and all of us are blind,<br />
declaring what we feel to be what we know.<br />
But what will we do with the contradictions<br />
that inevitably arise?<br />
How can we safely stand beside<br />
the huge paradox in the room<br />
and trust that the magnitude<br />
that encompasses all our beliefs<br />
empowers and appreciates us all?<br />
<br />Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-52931269236854609662018-04-06T13:15:00.002-07:002018-04-06T13:15:41.235-07:00What is it?What is it that you've heard along the years<br />
that's opened you to thoughts you'll never think,<br />
lives you'll never lead;<br />
all the ways of being that aren't you?<br />
When you empty your heart,<br />
what is it that spills in?<br />
Everything.<br />
Everything.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-66643353094919414502018-03-29T09:44:00.000-07:002018-03-29T09:44:52.706-07:00On the 76th anniversaryWhere I live, most folks come from somewhere else,<br />
and having come here, we now claim it as our own,<br />
each of us bringing something of before --<br />
-- of culture, or of art, of prejudice or belief --<br />
that becomes another brick in this home we build together,<br />
while the history that shaped this land<br />
before our late arrivals still exists as our foundation;<br />
decisions made that drew us in<br />
and determine how we all hope to continue;<br />
a gross injustice rectified,<br />
a loss recovered, the falsely accused<br />
returned to open arms and reunited,<br />
a reconciliation shared that echoes in our bones<br />
and fuels our hearts with hope.<br />
<br />
Having chosen our new forebears,<br />
we are the undescended children<br />
of a new vision of community,<br />
our former diversity a model which exists in awkward yoke<br />
with our current lack of same,<br />
a shared past shaping us which has no mirror in the present. Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-16306427850809183162018-03-26T15:16:00.004-07:002018-03-26T15:16:51.489-07:00Thoughts for an unproductive artistThink about the cherry tree--<br />
bare for so much of the year,<br />
and yet we plant them everywhere<br />
and wait each spring, anticipate<br />
the fullness of their blossoms,<br />
admire their pinks, their rosy fullness,<br />
inspired to plant more just to experience<br />
those few days of delight.<br />
<br />
From bare to full and quickly bare again,<br />
the cherry trees remind us:<br />
perfection's never permanent.<br />
Rejoice when it takes place,<br />
and trust, when it must leave,<br />
that its brilliance must return,<br />
and that all the days when we feel barren,<br />
empty and bereft,<br />
we are just storing up the light we'll need<br />
so we can bloom again.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8537035810183289341.post-14136375697737206652018-03-25T08:33:00.001-07:002018-03-25T08:33:33.276-07:00Time for changeTogether we are marching.<br />
We are breathing the one breath,<br />
traversing the distance from strangers into intimacy,<br />
gathering and sharing in the losses of the world,<br />
lifting up our voices in the One Song of creation<br />
like the birds outside my window<br />
or the planets in their orbits<br />
we're declaring our intentions that the time has come,<br />
is now, is meant to be<br />
a time for change.Diane Walkerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03379544317007203762noreply@blogger.com0