pictured words

a simple pairing of pictures and poetry

Tag: War

PLEASE, NO MORE AFTERS

Photo by Mathias Reding on Pexels.com

A Ukrainian student,
who speaks nearly no English,
brings a map and photos
to class. 

The map shows her home,
and its proximity to Russia.
Her quivering finger moves across it
showing us her escape route.
Border-to-border, across Ukraine.
Romania.
Germany.
The U.S.A.

She moves from photo to photo.
“Our central park.”
Before,
and after.

“Capitol building.”
Before,
and after. 

Her house,
out of photo’s view by centimeters,
“here,” her finger rests. 
The building in view,
demolished. 


Her house? 
Likely an “after.” 

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

#apictureisworthathousandwords
#prayforUkraine


COME HOME (Sonnet to Immigrants and Refugees)

Photo by Elu012bna Aru0101ja on Pexels.com
So, at what point does one decide to flee
the land where fruit and spice speak Grandma’s tongue?
Where generations of their family 
breathe music, art, and song as through shared lung?

This land (their land) where memories are made:
The land that births their children’s love of life,
where laughter laughs, and prayers-in-sync are prayed,
with rooted norms for husband and for wife.

At what point does their home feel foreign-born,
so much so that they have no choice but leave?
How long ‘til all their colors wilt war-torn?
How long until their soul does naught but grieve?

At what point can one let go of what was,
to feel at home in land of unlike flaws?

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

A DISTANT WAR

Photo by Kostiantyn Stupak on Pexels.com

Even their shadows hide
beneath dark sky
and grim state
as they make
their way of escape
from dark to dark –
or watchfully, vulnerably wait
to face night’s peril
as I write this poem
in my recliner
in stream of sun
while cheerful flowers
named for same
flourish on my screen.

© Marie Elena Good, 2022

#prayforUkraine

BENEATH THE MOON OF GOD’S CHOOSING

Photo by Keith R. Good

In the midst of war
(and there is always a war)
lies grim misjudging.
Fear of difference.
Insatiable greed for land.
Resolute loathing.
Dire false impressions.
Grave miscommunications.

And a common moon.

And beneath that moon,
in God’s perfect alignment,
is home to us all.
We’ve food and water
(if only we’d gladly share),
great plains and mountains,
celebrated seas
with unfathomably large
communal mammals.
With microscopic
yet astoundingly complex
sentient beings.
Sands God has numbered
stay in place as our home spins,
not spilling a drop
of the vast waters
that both adorn and provide,
beautify and quench.

And though we do not
tend to her needs (let alone
the needs of “others”),
God gave us this home
brilliantly placed beneath the
moon of His choosing,
populated with
children He chooses to love.
(There are no “others.”}

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

#5-7-5

WHITE SPACE

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Photo from HMbd.org

There is a distance
of point eight miles from my home
to “Indian Hills,”

our name for the site
of The Indian Wars, on
the Maumee River.

Seventeen Ninety
to Seventeen Ninety Five:
The “savages” fought

To save their homes from
American Pioneers
aiming to settle.

Nineteen Fifty Five:
An historical marker
was erected, and

continues to stand
regally, as visitors
are enlightened to

the proclamation
of “peaceful white settlement.”
And there’s not enough

Witeout on hand to
to cover our ignorance,
and there will never

be enough distance
between Seventeen Ninety
and my property.

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

Historical Marker of The Indian Wars. 1790-1795, erected in 1955 by the Historical Society of Northwestern Ohio

The marker begins, “When American pioneers attempted to settle the area north and west of the Ohio River, following the ordinance of 1787, the Indians, aided by the British in Canada, fought valiantly and fiercely for their homes in the Ohio country. It required the efforts of three American armies to break the Indian resistance.” It goes on to say, “ … the Indians signed the Treaty of Green Ville August 3, 1795. They were thereby placed under the control of the United States, and the Northwest Territory was opened, in part, to peaceful white settlement.”

And it makes me shudder.

ARMED TO THE TEETH

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Image courtesy of Pixabay’s ThePixelman

My stomach is tied up in knots.
I wonder who’s calling the shots.
And will they admit
when the bullet gets bit
even they had their own second thoughts?

© Marie Elena Good, 2020

SYRIA (Sonnet for the Severed Souls)

black_background

The images.  The videos. The news.
The view from here is simply that – a view.
For I can just ignore it if I choose –
Not take in what I’ll wish I never knew.

But you?  You watch your babies breathe their last
while hospitals are bombed before your eyes,
and lifeless neighbors’ bodies are amassed.
You plead for help to long-obscure allies.

I want to send for you, and beg you come –
To sing soft lullabies to sooth your sleep.
But see, you are a fearsome threat to some.
That takes me to my knees to heave and weep.

While dead and dying lie within your reach,
Your wails are hushed by those whom you beseech.

 

© Marie Elena Good, 2017

OF WAR AND WORTH

checkmate-1511866_640

New York Times, Jan. 2, 2017
Political post by Sheri Fink and Helene Cooper

“Give me a pack of cigarettes and a couple of beers, and I do better with that than I do with torture.” ~ James N. Mattis, Retired General, and President-elect Donald J. Trump’s nominee for Secretary of Defense

 

A young boy’s torture,
Received
Then imparted,
Swells the hell inside –
Wills famine of worth
Gives birth to young man
Young soldier
Acquainted with torture
And callous of heart.

A young boy’s nurture,
Received
Then imparted,
Renders a tender
Defender of life
Where strife matters not.
Young soldier, familiar
With self-control
And depth of soul.

Young country at war
Divides her own shore.

© Marie Elena Good, 2017