I Want You to Know

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I want you to know things can change.
I want to show you joy and peace.
I want to show you the goodness of life,
how an easy smile feels,
how letting go makes way
for the freedom of dancing,
how rain is refreshment
and thunder is a wonder.
I want to knock your fear on the head
and say back off!
I want you to taste apples and grapes
and all tangs of cheeses,
to smell jasmine
and pungent green onions
and fully inhale both.
I want to share with you
the peace of a pause,
the huge-hearted hug of hope,
the delight of simply being.
I want you to know things can change.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.

Dreaming Between Photographs

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I sleep between past and future.
On the wide windowsill to one side of my bed,
a single frame holds black and white photos
of my mom and dad, newlyweds,
shortly after World War II.
On the left, Mom stands at the kitchen sink,
apron over her sweater and skirt,
smiling at the camera while
washing a white enameled pot.
On the right, Dad also smiles at the camera.
He wears a suit and bow tie
and sits at a breakfast table,
a cup of coffee in hand,
a newspaper spread before him.
On the windowsill on the other side of my bed,
a single picture frame holds color school photos
of two of my grandchildren, whose mom is Japanese.
Before Dad died at 95,
he pointed out that in the war,
he joined the Navy to fight the Japanese.
Now, here, decades later,
his granddaughter-in-law was from Japan,
two of his great-grandchildren were half Japanese,
and he dearly loved them all.
Who could have predicted it?
I would say the thought blew his mind.
He would simply laugh softly and say,
“Isn’t that something!”

I sleep between that past and future.
I live between that past and future.
I dream between that past and future,
hoping that someday all of us will see each other
with new, clear, gracious eyes
and that fear and anger over our differences
will dissipate like a fog in the sunlight
and we will see each other
with open hearts,
with wonder,
and softly laugh and say,
“Isn’t that something!”
For it really is something.
It’s peace.
It’s joy.
It’s the mystery and brilliance
of love.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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From the Hospital Window

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I stand at the wide glass window.
Behind me, my son sleeps
in a hospital bed.
My son will be fine—
I am confident of that—
but at the moment,
he is not fine,
so I am not fine either.
I hurt at his pain;
my heart cracks with his cries;
I pray when he hasn’t the will
or the faith
to pray.
This present moment,
the Now
is supposed to be a time and place
of meditation and peace.
But this Now, this present moment
bites me.
I look out this wide window
across buildings and treetops.
I see beyond this moment of pain
that curls him inward,
calls all his attention
to a deep
abyss,
and I think even God must cry
at least a little bit every day,
for there’s so much to cry about.
I take a deep breath of treetop and sky
and determine to be a source of peace
for my son
just as friends who text me
are a source of peace for me.
This peace connects us
like an invisible, strong thread,
stitching up our cracked hearts
with every color
warm and cool,
joyful and sad,
sometimes glinting with our tears
and God’s too.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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Who Knew?

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“There was an old woman tossed up in a basket,
Nineteen times as high as the moon;
And where she was going, I couldn’t but ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom.

“‘Old woman, old woman, old woman,’ said I,
O whither, O whither, O whither so high?’
‘To sweep the cobwebs out of the sky!’
‘Shall I go with you?’ ‘Aye, by and by.’”

There was a time,
years and years ago,
when an old woman swept the sky,*
when the moon was the North Wind’s cookie,**
and when Mrs. Peck-Pigeon
went pecking for bread.***
Who knew that such a long ago time
would take root and grow into
a warm, spacious place-of-mind,
a pool of peace,
a cup of all-is-well within me.
Of course, out in the big, wide world,
all is not well
and was not well even then,
but my heart tiptoes back
to this landing place where I can
hold the open hand of hope,
find gentle joy,
and open again and again
the treasure box
of childhood dreams and imagining,
where all things are possible
and the currency of trade is
simple kindness.
Who knew that such a pool
of goodness and trust
would never dry up
but would be there still,
seventy years on and counting.
Who knew that it would call to me
on bright spring days,
that it would be my “land of nod”
on the darkest of nights.
Who could know?
But even now,
the moon is the North Wind’s cookie,
Mrs. Peck Pigeon still peck, peck, pecks,
the old woman still sweeps the sky.
I still ask her, “Shall I go with you?”
And she still replies,
“Aye. By and by.”
-kh

*nursery rhyme **Vachel Lindsay *** Eleanor Farjeon

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – bluebirds!:

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The Changing Weather of Peace

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Peace and stillness—
sometimes they go together,
sometimes they don’t.
Like wind,
peace can breeze in softly,
but it can also whistle sparkling cold
through cracks in closed hearts.
Wake up, it says, all will be well.
There’s a pensive peace
that watches the sky for storm clouds.
There’s peace that sighs in relief
when trouble skims past,
simply rocking branches, teasing leaves.
Then there’s peace that weathers the storm
like a boulder unmoved,
the tree left standing.
And there’s a festive peace,
noisy and fresh as a sudden spring shower,
full of laughter, lifted glasses, shared stories.
This holiday season held that peace for me—
a flowing, swirling, rushing peace
of listening and watching the joy of family,
the gratitude of gathering,
the hope of health and happiness to come.
Now that family has left
and I sit alone in my family room,
the stillness returns.
Peace drifts down like silent snow,
and I know that peace
is the weather
of the healing heart.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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