Cup without a saucer
First name without a last
Activist without a handmade sign
Monkey without a banana to eat
Home without a state
State without a name
Hand without a finger
Nowhere is home
No place is mine
Where a heart resides in peace
Accepted by rulers
who prey upon strangers
and do not tolerate salt
—Victoria Emmons, © 2018
acceptance, Addiction, Amour, Challenges, Hate, Hope, life, Lonely, Love, Musings, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts, Tolerance, USA, Writing
acceptance, couples, life, love, relationships, Tolerance
Feb · 18
Frankly it was summer
and hot. Air wouldn’t move and fences were blocked so no one could enter even if you didn’t want to go inside.
I did. I wanted to see
what his world had been like, all hundred or more years of it. There he was, a stone general frozen in thought astride a white mount blackened by time.
weighed upon him, I am sure of it. Please the family, children need bread, a new nation cannot breathe without a leader.
Easy enough to live
on a peaceful farm, ignore the critics and haters, ones who shame into leadership those who might win.
Oh, cousin, why did
we fight to defend a way of life gone for the ages, too radical for our time, but not yours.
Conflict need come
to an end, they say, no war between us or remains of vast valleys full of blood, soldiers no more, only crosses on a hill.
You watch from atop
your loyal stead new soldiers who never learned history, nor learned from it, mistakes made and lives lost, teach anew.
They do not listen,
nor will they know that you remain a leader teaching lessons from your day, remind them of wrongs gone by, not wiped away, remembered for a reason.
Dear cousin, show them
from your Traveler’s perch so no one will forget, that our battles from home to home, brother to brother must surely end.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
America, Challenges, Family, Forgiveness, Hate, Musings, Patriotism, poems, Poetry, Tolerance, War, Will
family, Hate, lesson, life, poems, soldiers, survival, war
Aug · 16
Music chimes a peaceful note from the mouths of children
waving palm fronds to signal triumphant goodness,
line a welcome path for the Master .
Peace be with you.
Tears of joy blend with splattered crimson pews upended
in a rubble of hatred permeating empty minds
determined to crush freedom.
Cry for Egypt.
Red palms scatter the ancient floor of life, open palms
never to breathe again, nailed to a cross of
faith, hope and love.
Cry for the world.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
Challenges, Children, death, Easter, Egypt, Forgiveness, Grief, Hate, Love, Musings, Poetry, Terrorism, War
Easter, Egypt, faith, peace, Terrorism
Apr · 17