Author: Veronica Hallissey

  • Hope Enters With A Promise. . . .

      Just do, she said and don’t ask why!  It was her mantra, her Om, her ominous threat!  This great, great grandmother of Emma E. with her brood of young held us all in check being a sergeant at arms.  We muttered our displeasure but we did what needed to be done.  We inherited what…

  • Shared Silence

    Shared Silence In rereading a journal entry of many years ago I wrote with little editing, ‘that my husband of more than a half century went out the door this morning with little communication.  Though there was little talk, there was a communion of shared history in the house. I think that has replaced talking,…

  • Does The World Stand Still For You?. . .

      If memory serves me, the one thing I learned from what I have been told is that no one thinks like I do. Trust me,  it was never a compliment from the time I was a child.  When I first started this blog in 2011, I started with this poem.  I excerpt. ‘How heavy…

  • Standard for Common Measure. . . .

      This is one of those times when life calls for a time out to let the eternal hold sway to be appreciated.  We let loose the hold that events have on us and just let life have its way.  Our mental balance demands it and our relationships require it.  It is enough to catch…

  • Angels We Have Heard. . . private time. . . .

      Can we make the snowman now,  the little one asked.   Almost time,  I said,  almost time.   Well, he said,  when will it be the right time?   And I asked him to think about it.   He was still for a minute and then asked me what I meant. Well,  I said,  there is a right…

  • No Place To Go. . .

      I was told that what is done for one will be done for all.  Meaning for me that when one does something unusual or different, the potential exists then for all.  And this is how progress becomes a sure thing for civilization.  Evolution takes a step, sometimes a baby step, but it is forward.…

  • In Thanksgiving. . .Because it is. . .

    Sometimes I look upon past work and see a new perspective, a new meaning.  And sometimes I cannot remember the person I was who wrote the poem or prose.  It is someone who has made up a portion of who I am and I bring her to the work I read today.  And I am…

  • I Will Speak. . . .

    I Will Speak. . . I sometimes envy those who chose to come to this Earth having adopted a religion or a way of life to concentrate on what lessons needed to be learned or just to enjoy life.  It is only delaying what must be done eventually, and that is to confront the history…

  • Interdependent . . . The Art of Being Human. . . .

      What I have read and heard of independence makes me think  I must negate a life of work which I thought meaningful but not in the currency of the day.  It seems we lost our sense of interdependency and community and our sense of belonging to the human race.  It is evidenced daily by…

  • With Knees Bent. . . .

      With Knees Bent. . . . There are those who  have learned the ways of the world but neglected to learn the lessons that might  have led to the same conclusions with understanding. ***** In the midst of agonies, there is the absurdity.  But to carry the absurdity past its point, belabors it. *****…