Peace, They Insist

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A trio of peace lilies stands tall
at my back window.
Raindrop-shaped upper leaves
curve over pebbled flower stalks
like hands gently cupping a candle
to protect it from a draft.
I imagine these upper leaves
shielding these symbols of peace
from today’s blast of bad news,
war and destruction,
hunger and hurt,
clenched fists, bared teeth,
faces distorted with anger.
How can these flowers stand quietly
proclaiming peace, peace, peace
in such a time of tension?
And yet they do, and they have.
Year after year,
decade after decade,
in calm, in turbulence,
peace lilies have stood tall in our world.
Today’s sunlight drifts in,
glows through dark lower leaves
and light upper leaves
translucent as stained-glass windows.
Peace, the lilies insist,
sharing their ancient wisdom,
and I see that peace is many-layered.
I cannot wave a wand and win world peace.
I cannot change minds and hearts
of those who hold tight to hatred.
I cannot control the uncontrollable.
But the inner layer of peace
is heart deep.
I can cup my own flame,
maybe yours too.
Maybe we can shield each other
from the cutting wind.
Maybe we can be translucent,
let the light glow through us.
Maybe we can stand tall for peace.
It’s said that often,
in the wild,
peace lilies grow in colonies.
I will stand alone if I have to,
but I believe we are a colony.
I am looking beyond my back window.
I’m aiming to grow
and glow
peace
in the wild.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Center Stage

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

For one bright moment

before the sun set,

its spotlight fell full on

three bunches of crape myrtle blooms,

dazzling them to a deep pink blush

as they hung like fancy chandeliers

on gently arced branches

high above the shadowed lawn.

For one bright moment

they took center stage

before the sun eased its beams higher

for its last brilliant gift of the day,

leaving the pink blooms fading into

the settling peace of twilight.

As my birthday came and went this week,

I saw myself in those frilly, full,

gathered blooms,

for it seems that all of life buds

and blossoms

and opens

into full bloom

for one bright moment

before the sun sets.

I am grateful to see,

in the settling twilight,

a beautiful peace.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Ah, the Dahlia

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

In the warming days of spring,

I planted two spidery tubers,

dahlias-to-be.

They soon sent up shoots,

greening, growing,

straight stems,

branching arms,

arrowed, light-veined leaves.

I watched for blooms to form,

for I had forgotten what color

they would be,

and I love the surprise of dahlias.

One bloomed in midsummer,

petals the color of burgundy wine.

The other grew taller,

stretched her leaves,

but gave no sign of blooms.

I made excuses for her.

(I am an expert at excuses,

being a late bloomer myself.)

Maybe it’s the heat, I said.

It’s been awfully hot this summer.

Maybe it’s because she came from

the supermarket, not the nursery.

Maybe I gave her too much water.

Or not enough.

I never know.

The fire-red salvia came and went,

the peppery basil is going to seed,

even the fragrant mint has bloomed.

I began to think this dahlia

would be content to wear green

all her life.

(Late bloomer that I am,

I’ve not outgrown impatience.)

Then, this week,

two blooms uncurled,

unfurled,

creamy peach,

warm blushing joy.

I had forgotten what her name was,

if the package even said.

Some dahlias are named Beauty

or Charlotte

or White Moonlight.

I call this one

Patience,

for that is the wisdom she carries:

Plant beauty, kindness, grace,

she says,

then be at peace,

patient.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Having the Maybes

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I’m having the maybes today.

The longer I live,

the more maybes I have.

Maybe I will breathe easier.

Maybe my shoulders will

relax—

or my arms

or my hands,

maybe all three.

Maybe peace will come.

Maybe I’ll

be still

long enough to feel it,

know it,

catch it,

carry it within me.

Maybe I’ll get an insight—

or not.

Maybe I’ll never be

so arrogantly sure of myself

ever again.

Maybe my heart will

re-tune itself to hum

a richer, fuller

melody.

Maybe I’ll hear Life laughing

in delight

at me and my

maybes.

Is this wishful thinking?

Is it hope?

No matter.

Maybe my maybes will

come true.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Until Peace Settles Deeply

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A broken heart, I think,

sometimes shields itself

under the guise of anger,

resentment, and bluster.

It’s easier

and maybe feels safer

to harden

instead of soften,

to shield

instead of bare itself,

to try to control

instead of letting go.

That truly may be the wise path

until wounds turn to scars,

until we stop collecting thorns to

shore up that shield

and instead

gather for ourselves the healing herbs

of goodness and mercy

until peace settles so deeply in us

that we realize

that from now on,

thorns may prick,

but only scratch-deep.

They will no longer embed themselves

as splinters in our heart.

For we know who we are—

scarred but

whole and holy.

We are those who not only

gather goodness

but give it away freely,

even—maybe especially—

to those still collecting thorns,

still shielding their hearts.

Peace, love,

goodness and grace.

Gather and give.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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The Salty Spray of Memory

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Sometimes

all the wrong choices I’ve made

come at me like a returning tide.

With the force of a wall of water,

they hit me full in the face,

wave after

wave

threatening to drown me in

regret.

It’s all I can do to keep my footing

on this rocky beach

and let it wash over me.

For it will wash over—

I’m familiar enough with this

edge of the ocean

to know that much.

The tide that comes in will

recede,

and I will find that I am still standing,

God only knows how,

but

drenched,

I stand in the sunlight of grace,

drip dry,

breathe the salty spray of memory

deeply in,

deeply out

until my breath comes without

hitching.

Peace returns

with the hope that

as long as I am still standing,

still breathing,

then with grace,

with peace,

with love,

I can

sometimes

turn the tide.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Why I Need My Garden

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

In the window

above my kitchen sink,

one golden bloom rises on a

toothpick-thin stem

in a tiny pottery vase.

A black-eyed Susan.

I lean closer,

admire her petals,

her dark brown center.

It’s like looking into the smile of God.

Outdoors, pink coneflowers sway

beside magenta coleus leaves

blanket-stitched along the edges

in bright yellow-green.

The smile of God.

Yellow gazania bloom bright,

happily resilient in the heat.

Red-purple impatiens overspread their pot,

preferring the shade.

The smile of God.

I also know the tears of God.

Anyone with eyes to see

and an open heart

feels the sadness,

knows the tears.

So many.

Too many.

That’s why I need my garden—

gazania and impatiens,

cornflower and coleus,

black-eyed Susans.

They remind me

that God does smile.

They give me hope

that we, too—

all shapes, colors, and

types of us—

can flower and flourish

in beauty and peace.

If only we will.

We, too, can be the smile of God.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Held Between

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

My sunroom floor turned into

a game board dotted with

grandson-made Lego creations

that moved in ways only he understood

in his game-wise mind,

ways I was trying to comprehend

when I looked out the window and saw

a chipmunk pouching sunflower seeds,

remnants of a refilled birdfeeder.

“Look!” I pointed.

We both paused and watched,

transfixed by this small creature

busy with her daily task.

All the game tension,

the do-I-move-now and how,

ebbed away, leaving

a sense of peace.

We were silent,

entertained—

literally held between—

in a time out,

and once again, I realized:

moments of all-is-well appear

like steady stepping stones

across a rushing brook,

like restful benches

along a hiking trail.

So much peace comes from

stepping across the stones,

resting on the bench,

stopping to watch a chipmunk.

So much peace comes from the

pauses.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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A Pure Stream of Blue

Not the Off-Hand “Thanks”

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Nature calms me,” said my grandson

as he stepped into his backyard,

left the stress of the school day,

entered the grace of afternoon.

I wish I had been that wise

when I was seven.

But nature is a patient teacher and

waited years for me to

pause at the call of a cardinal,

linger over the unfolding coneflower,

inhale the scent of honeysuckle,

finger the curling bark of the crape myrtle,

taste the wild strawberry,

settle my soul.

Nature waited years for me to be

deeply grateful,

and for me,

that’s where true peace begins.

I can’t imagine peace without gratitude—

not the off-hand, easily tossed “thanks”

but the gratitude that has no words,

the awe of a heart

full of the richness of being.

There is, of course, a dark side,

the underside of living,

but that’s all the more reason

to follow the wisdom of a seven-year-old

and at least once in a while

step into the grace

of Nature.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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No Hurry, No Worry

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

The elms are late-bloomers.

Maples, redbuds, tulip poplars,

even grandfather hackberry

show off their spring green leaves.

But the elms,

one in each corner of my back yard,

are still asleep.

My young neighbor says,

“I think they are dead.”

I squint and study the elms,

look them up and down

as if he might be right,

but I know he’s not.

Silhouetted against the morning sky,

their upreaching branches bear bumps of

leaves-to-be

and the faint sheen of

newborn green.

My elms bide their time.

No hurry.

No worry.

I imagine that’s their mantra,

their peaceful way of entering spring,

stretching and yawning,

catching a few more drowsy minutes.

These elms have seen seasons come and go

for at least as long as I have,

and they know the deep joy of

lingering

a moment

longer.

They know the deep peace of

unhurried progress,

the contentment of

being a

late bloomer.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Carry the Calm

Karyn Henley

peace

Peace, They Insist

Center Stage

Ah, the Dahlia

Having the Maybes

Until Peace Settles Deeply

The Salty Spray of Memory

Why I Need My Garden

Held Between

Not the Off-Hand “Thanks”

No Hurry, No Worry