I’ve been reading the poetry of Henry Walker for a while now, just waiting for the right poem to share with you. I saw it this morning. I thought it was perfect, especially since I’ve been noodling with a new level of understanding of this Winter/Christmas holiday season. Where I arrived: in giving gifts we are trying to remember that we ARE the gift.

Henry has been teaching for over 40 years at the Carolina Friends School where our sons attend school. He has been and continues to be a gift to so many people, including my precious family. Thank you Henry.

what is my gift?

what is my gift?
the light that is most mine to give,
that gift that can shine
while I use the tools I have within my kit?
my gift is my heart,
the caring within me
that wells up and overflows out of me,

that which powers me to see what I see in my photography,
the twinkle of the eye as the wonder within a person
gives me a flash of itself,
the angle, the moment, the possibility
that lets a waterfall, a sunset, a flower, a mountain
reveal its own heart,
and the possible becomes actual,

it is the caring that powers my teaching
so that I can touch a wholeness who can self-organize
if given space, foundation, encouragement, release,
while it needs so much to resist all
that pulls down at its reaching and that rewards the base,

for now words are my familiar, my agents,
the sous chefs who help me fathom the depths, encompass the breadth,
reach up and back to the source,

how relatively easy it is to know the “how” of action,
it’s the heart that gives the “why,” the “where,” the “when,”
and then the “how” knows what to do–

and there’s a picture, a learner,
and sometimes a poem.

by Henry Walker
December 14, ‘09

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