The Promised Land
America, A New World
Picture if you will, immigrants arriving in America, barely able to speak the language and struggling to get by in this new land. This poem is about a family who has come to America, seeking what all Americans seek, a better life.
The Promised Land
She stood there, in ginger and cream. Lacey-edged lingerie upon her limbs, amidst her line,
she stood. She held a painted mirror in one hand and
tucked the stray bees back into the hive of hair upon her head. The image that stared
back was of innocence, not self-righteousness.
They never understood, the girl in the ginger-colored camisole.
The looks of contempt scalded the young woman’s spirits but never shattered her will. The lines
that ran along uneven trails, edged around their eyes and mouths.
Time had left its mark, that wrote of a thousand stories, of pain and
suffering. Their hands all calloused and red, from the lives they’d
led. Simple times, simple ways.
Cramped, chaotic, clutter that christened the kindred. New land,
same, old condition, strife and struggle.
There were all kinds of things, things that reminded them
of better times; a kite and a beautiful old piano, that mother played in the evenings.
Candles all about, illuminating the night,
their spirits glowed brightly, despite their dark, cold hearts.
Why did they have to be so glum, so asssured of their fate.
There were certainly many more days to realize that this is not
all there is in life, there is more.
Why did he bring us here, it all seems for naught.
We’ve not prospered as we were promised, a promise filled with the hopes
and dreams of a new life. He relied upon
the very promise of the land. It was hard, to
see the light that he tried to shed upon the situation. We were blinded
by the very light of hope, it was the same light
that was extinguished like a candle blown out
too quickly. The scent of melted wax all around, it
wafted and a smoky fog floated all around, a disillusion.
Ahead, laid another day, most certainly filled with the optimism
and vision of every man that walked upon the land. Aspirations,
were within the young woman in the ginger-colored camisole, she looked
into that mirror, with the dreams and desires that could
So they sat, and reflected on the day, feeling less downbeat and blue,
their frowns turned up a little more at the edges, and
their spirits lifted up like a ghost on Halloween. The woman felt
the scalded welts she had heal, they were fading away and
warmth, like the flame from a candle,
grew in their hearts. The new day was coming
in the Promised Land.
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