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.

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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

ensure change.

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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Comments 2 comments

epigramman profile image

epigramman 5 years ago

..can't believe no one has made a comment here on this most beautiful and pure piece of writing - like a scene out of a movie - you have captured it perfectly with your evocative words of poetic magic - I must bear witness to your talent as a writer and post this to my facebook page with a direct link back here so hopefully some more lucky people like me will discover your gifts

lake erie time 6:55am ontario canada


cre8ivOne profile image

cre8ivOne 5 years ago from Midwest, USA Author

Epigramman,

I thank you for the kind words! I had an image in my head and I tried to paint the picture for everyone else to see. : ) Thank you for sharing my poems with others as well, I really appreciate it!

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