White Horse

Rescue me, mon ami,
from the debris of life
save me from the
threads that weave
my heart to yours

I need saving now and then
my head is tired and
my body aches for you
to save me some day
on your white horse

I’m not your Fairy Godmother
flying in and out of your life
to save you from yourself
I carry no magic wand
to make it all better

I can only offer one gift
my eternal love for you
wretched soul that you are
so rescue me, mon amour,
save me from myself

–by Victoria Emmons, © 2014


Purple urchins tossed
Into seaweed mountains
Crushed by a wave

Sandy coins washed
Ashore under driftwood
Sculpted by the sea

Shards of blue porcelain
Chiseled over time
Piled by change

Castles of sea foam
Dance in ocean meadows
Vanquished by wind

Nature unleashed
Through powers unknown
So who sculpted me?

–Victoria Emmons, © 2014

Un poème pour Mustapha

je souris et
je rigole
ce moment
qui m’attend

à cause de toi
la vie est gaie
j’ai des amis
qui sont devant
et autour de moi

j’ai des amis
qui me protègent
tous les jours
et toutes les nuits
sais pas pourquoi

suis-je belle?
peut-etre jolie?
je parle langage
trop fleuri
de mauvais temps

je les aime
ces chers amis
dans ma vie
dans le monde
de tristesse

de très loin
lumière d’Algérie
qui m’écrit
de bons mots

je souris et
je rigole
car la vie est
comme tu dis
mon cher ami

–Victoire, 2014

Lake Del Valle

Breath is cold as I stare at my boots
Preparing for the inevitable
The mystic journey of my life
I am not ready for the once easy trek
Travels that took me far and wide
Without complication or trauma
Hills to cross and crosses to bear
Remains to be discovered of deer
That hunger for their young
Violet horns and golden hair sweep
Through the tunnels of destination
Wherever that will be for me
The road not clear as it once was
Feet not so sturdy or confident
Yet none of that really matters
Water is plentiful with fish of all kinds
Gathering to feed and renew their young
As I now also come to feed my soul
Lake of the Valley glistens
The moon crests upon its breast
Heaves and weeps to light the way
Wings dip into its shore and search
For answers and sustenance
To carry life to its end or more
Each toe in the sand kicks rocks
By accident discovering mouths
That need food, promises to fill
My hike exhausts at best
Exhilarates at worst and
Cleanses my soul eternally
Wind captures the Lake of the Valley
Trees mourn their loss as gusts force
Roaming grasses to bend and flow
I bend and flow, too, as I see life
Pass before me and beyond me
Yet I am here on this trail forever
The trail guides me to where I should be
Air, water, and earth sound their trumpets
I listen and my boots move forward

— Victoria Emmons, 2014