Stuck in the age of Covid-19, racing to nowhere except a way out of this box to which the world has been condemned, a prison cell of prevention, or not, for those unlucky thousands who carry coronavirus with them to their graves, leaving the rest of us to worry about droplets lingering for days on Amazon delivery boxes, empty grocery store shelves, dirty gas pump handles, or our own Fido’s nose, even a child’s hand fresh from a playground jungle gym when the real jungle is Mother Earth spinning in all her infected glory, laughing as she twirls leaving that voice message that cries, “I told you so.”
—Victoria Emmons, copyright 2020
acceptance, boredom, Challenges, death, Destiny, doctors, Dogs, environment, Fear, funeral, Grief, Help, Hope, illness, Jungle, kids, life, Lonely, Loss, Musings, Nature, Pandemic, poems, Poetry, Thoughts, Time, Tolerance, Writing
challenges, dogs, family, Fear, friends, hope, life, loneliness, loss, mourning, pain, pets, poetry, sorrow, survival, thoughts, Tolerance, tragedy
Mar · 24
Unfair that I should
on a comfortable chaise
next to a clear, blue
pool of running water,
a sound to calm my nerves,
steady my heart,
settle my head,
reconcile what is left
of a rather long life.
Unfair that a mother
her young son,
a father should
bring his daughter
home to Pakistan
in a coffin,
a birthday party
should be cancelled
in favor of a funeral,
the boy turned 17
still hugs his
creation laying silent
on an art room floor.
Unfair that death
to others is the answer
to self loathing,
revenge the choice
for an unkind word,
no matter the tool —
fist to the nose,
trigger to the head,
stab to the heart —
killing the answer.
Unfair that funerals
beget more funerals,
a killing ground for
the lonely, desperate,
the baby born
with no mother,
no love, no compassion,
no enthusiasm for life.
Unfair that life
is over when
it is over.
No second thoughts.
No second chance to rewind,
reconsider the action,
about to unfold.
that one sad person
ready to pull the trigger.
—Victoria Emmons, 5/20/18
Challenges, Children, death, Father, funeral, Grief, Hate, Heartbreak, life, Loss, poems, tragedy
grief, killing, lost, poetry, sorrow, tragedy
May · 21
Do not set foot
into a black limousine.
A ride through empty streets
makes the dream real.
No pretend toe tag,
coroner’s signature required.
Son rescues a wedding ring
from a burial far too deep.
Well-placed calls to
sisters, brothers and daughters.
Search for an American flag
to drape across a wooden coffin.
Images of sixty-some years
pasted to a display board
filled with silly grins
at milestone occasions.
Give me a handkerchief,
please. Be there for me,
you, a witness to
love, family, legacy.
Write your name in a book
to remember celebrants
for a friend, father, grandpa,
brother, husband, lover.
Shoe pinches my toe
with each step toward
sympathetic arms outstretched,
pinches my heart.
If the shoe hurts
I don’t have to wear it.
Allow me, dear Lord,
to live with cold feet.
—Victoria Emmons, © 2017
Challenges, death, Family, Friends, funeral, Grief, life, Loss, Love, Memories, Musings, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts, Writing
death, family, grief, life
Mar · 09
A missing appendage
Makes it hard to type
Close a button
Pick up a dime
The departed pointer finger
Lost to a sharp buzz saw
Building hearth and home
To keep a family safe
Lost, but found, the finger tip
Still feels, still grows its own claw
Offers refuge for gnawing concerns
That cloud a hectic day
Gone, but not forgotten,
Memories reside in time
Within an absent piece of flesh
Imagined to be whole
Finger the missing edge
Feel it, love it, massage
Its invisible core
Until it reappears
Make it whole again
Make yourself whole
Resume your heartbeat
–Victoria Emmons, copyright, 2017
achievement, Challenges, Loss, Musings, Persistence, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Thoughts, Time, Tolerance
advice, appendage, challenges, finger, grief, loss, poem
Oct · 06
Music comforts, charms and fascinates us. A palace with a huge, gilded room dedicated to music can be most inspiring.
death, Fear, Hope, Loss, Music, Musings, poems, Poetry, Thoughts
death, Fear, life, music
Sep · 26
You met me
the rim of my
too late to join me
for dinner and
too late for
a shared glass
You buzzed to
let me know
you were there
–Victoria Emmons, 2017, Prague
Amour, Grief, Loss, Love, Love, Loyalty, Marriage, Musings, poems, Poetry, Time
loss, love, poetry, Prague
Aug · 15
I feel the warmth of your arms surround me
as years wash away, a long moment of grief
expressed in a hug too tight for a child,
a man without a father.
History powerful enough to tear down
walls of time belies reason.
A sepia photograph reminds of
bygone youth, shared play,
picnics at the zoo.
Sadness and joy clash on this day,
memories well up in your eyes and mine.
Tales to tell, remembrances, laughter and love.
Shrimp, crayfish and oysters
on the table before us.
Thundering rain upon heavy limbs
laden with green resurrection ferns.
A damp night of conversation and thoughtful
stories, but no campfire.
Spring awaits summer, hot and sticky,
sweat follows the length of your temples,
beads on your forehead.
Love beats in your heart.
Family swells in your mind.
A homecoming of sorts, we gather to mourn,
remark the change in lines on our faces,
spill our absent lives into one another’s.
Four score years should not pass
before shared warmth.
Believing the other will always exist,
somewhere in the annals of our history,
part of the natural order of our universe,
a comfort zone to our souls,
does not make it so.
Create a pact, dear ones.
Share more of life in
years to come.
Let’s not wait for
the next family funeral.
—Victoria Emmons, May 2017
Aging, Cousins, death, Family, Father, Grief, Home, Loss, Love, Memories, Musings, Pain, Poetry, Relationships, Reunion
Cousins, death, family, love
May · 31
Soft sounds count each breath with
clarity, mindfulness and motion.
Every swell erupts into hope, rises and falls
in fullness, leaving joy as a postscript.
Breathe in to fill three-quarters,
that which is left of a lung, a section
disappeared one sunny morning, a favorite
corner rendered useless by a scalpel.
Pushing air out even harder,
pain shoots down the spine,
suffocates the rib cage and the heart.
But the heart still loves, still smiles.
Life breathes in three-quarter beats,
arouses a heart to sing, a soul to pray,
a mind to dream. Invites love to play
under a delicious full moon.
Count the breaths. One. One-half.
How many birthdays, he asks.
Grandma, that’s a lot of birthdays.
A lot more to come, you say.
Smell a future filled with fresh air,
even in three-quarter beat. Hear the
sound of laughter, the voice of strength
residing in a cage meant to be opened.
Make songs with every breath when
air and music wed as one. Sing for
respite. Sing for hope. Sing for life,
notes attaching to the summer wind.
–Victoria Emmons, May 2017
Birthdays, Challenges, Destiny, Hope, illness, kindness, life, Loss, Love, Musings, Pain, Persistence, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Time, Wedding, Writing
Happiness, iIlness, joy, kindness, love, poems, recovery, strength
May · 20
The first time
I saw my own eyes
staring out from
behind your sweet face,
a mirror of self-love
unencumbered by years
of doubt, sweat, tears.
That first time,
the only time
I saw you
before she took
to a better life.
–Victoria Emmons, 2017
Dedicated to all the mothers
who had to give up their children.
Babies, Birth, Challenges, Children, Daughter, Destiny, Family, Grief, Heartbreak, kids, life, Loss, Love, Love, Memories, Mother, Musings, Pain, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Secrets, Son
adoption, babies, challenges, children, grief, infants, kids, loss, mother, orphans
May · 16
In fifteen minutes you and I will turn thirty.
That long ago, so much time vanished.
Fifteen minutes disappearing like thirty years.
At midnight, all those years will have passed.
That day we met, we cued up for good reason.
A boat too full let us laugh together instead,
share a beer at the hotel bar,
become friends and lovers for life.
Ten minutes remain until thirty years arrive.
We can soon celebrate a milestone,
worth a bottle of your best champagne.
Bubbles make me laugh. So do you.
I hear your laughter ring in my head. Yet
how heavy it seems. I carry that laughter with me.
Its joy and its burden. A love that will not end.
A memory that will not cease to exist.
Five more minutes and our thirty-year anniversary
becomes real. Aunt Wilma said thirties were the
best years. Best for everything. Her wisdom stays
with me. But after thirty years, a void appears.
Not the same without you, my love, despite the hour.
Remember our anniversary, my calendar tells me.
It is now done. Check you off my to-do list.
I remembered. No one else did.
–Victoria Emmons, 16 May 2017
Amour, Anniversary, Grief, life, Loss, Love, Love, Loyalty, Marriage, Memories, Musings, poems, Poetry, Relationships, Writing, Writing
Amour, Anniversary, grief, life, loss, love, loyalty, marriage, relationships
May · 16