From an Upper Floor

When You Have The Obligation . . .

Living The Martha Mary Story forever it seems. . . . . .

It was the Martha -Mary story which raised the hackles and had me fuming. Martha wished to sit and listen to her friend and exchange thoughts but Mary of course took the seat. Mary did not offer to pour milk nor water to the thirsting children and elders so Martha toured with pitcher in hand and fumed.

Jesus was attuned to this and chided, Martha, Martha why do you fuss so? Mary is only doing what Mary can do.

I am not really sure that anyone appreciated what Martha did. Martha also did what only she could do because she saw what needed to be done. No one else did. No one. Only her eyes saw the need.

There would be those who say that Martha chose to pour for the guests. She could have said no and taken a seat. But could she? And did Mary see the need and choose not to service? Or not eyes open and mind to understand?

I scribed . . .You have the obligation because you have the knowledge. October 26, 1988

(my thoughts today. . . In other words when you have the knowledge, you have the obligation. Also when knowledge roots and conscience is honed, options are fewer. In some cases, options close. (this is how saints are born on the job)

This is anathema to some because choice is a freedom and to say options close takes away that freedom. Limited knowledge even then gives the favored ones many choices. And looking at our world especially today, tells us that minorities are stripped of choices every day no matter their high credentials.

When reasons and explanations make the kind of sense that lead to understanding, it becomes knowledge. Understanding does not necessarily make something easier to live with. But when it roots and conscience is honed sharply, one sometimes sees an out but it is closed because that same knowledge sometimes presents fallout on innocent shoulders. Conscience wishes not to wound.

And the only thing one can do is endure.

One is not abandoned because in the knowledge comes enlightenment which grants surcease from what grips in the dilemma. Sometimes small comfort but in the broadening space given, this becomes the lifebuoy that keeps all afloat. And in times like ours with so many devices blaring information 24/7 with no letup, a small comfort is acceptable with no argument. And greedily grasped.

The Godfellows. . .

they crowd him, he who walks
the path like the pied piper.

the youngers follow like
so many puppies.

he bends to whisper the day good
into ears that hear his beating heart.

and their hearts beat with knowledge . . .
that they are both Divine. . . . .

(When it seems I flit with old and recent entries, it is because I finally understand the quantum theory that all time is simultaneous. Because I do, it is all happening now. It is the only way to make sense out of my own why. Work on it because otherwise the deep waters will entice.)

photo by John S. Hallissey

June 16, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
The Loving Gesture Makes The Difference. . . . .

What pleases me so much about this photo besides knowing she is my beloved Emma E. is the obvious seriousness she shows in her work. And it is work she does.

I identify the intensity and I wish her to be able to see the beauty of her body doing what her mind has determined. It is with joy she will do work, whatever it is.

It will be with a loving gesture that she does her tasks. And the loving gesture is what makes the difference.

We have our favorite people doing for us when we are children and it is special ones we want to do for us as we grow older. It is the toddler who says either Mommy do! Or daddy do! Or pushing the item in the hands of another with a grunt! Do! What is the difference? The child knows. The child knows the difference. It is the love.

And the elder child approaching dotage? They sit calmly and wait for the loving gesture that always makes the difference.

I cannot nor do I even wish to get behind the eyes of an Other to see what they see. But I can see in the hands the loving gesture simply by how they approach the task. Is it with haste, or disdain the task is done, or even a disinterest? Is it with no thought because something else is more important or enticing?

It will show in the outcome of the work. So if it takes me hours to make dinner, it may be an honored chef in mind telling me to chop finely the celery for this dish.

It may be time in conference or in harmony with the invisible Other whom we all house in heart. This Other we talk to is what the cosmic element sometimes call prayer.

Emma E. is in conference. Emma E. is in harmony. She seriously mixes her mudcakes and measures the liquid to make real what she remembers from another place. Not in time perhaps, but in mind.

What she does is what her grandfather did on the white sheets folded to make a piano on his bed sing his heart songs. And an uncle sit with the books he memorized as a preschooler to cite them aloud while another climbed his trees with a tool belt made of kitchen ware to saw the branches off.

The loving gestures were part of them as I see now in their offspring. And I almost know, almost. . . what they see through their eyes.

photo by
Tresy Hallissey, Grandfather

June 13, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Love = Value Added. . . .

Attitudes of Gratitude . . . . .

I had been asked to make potato salad for guests because they think it special and I was delighted to do so. When I finished I thought I should have kept the times to show long it took when I was at home and said I was tired at the end of a day caring for family, home and property. I was asked what was I doing all day since I didn’t have to work?

I gave thought to love of family, for beauty I created in the home, yard and learning to do. Not just what I did with my hands but with my heart.

It took 3 ½ hours from start to finish today when I made the potato salad. No small act in time but its value was what went into it because of caring. The celery chopped thin, green pepper, angular and red pepper to add color; cucumbers angled to be crisp , eggs cooked perfectly made the difference. Particular mayonnaise balanced with sour cream made it special.

Once yard work meant I knew plants and their needs, maximized color, plus caregiving meant I studied facets of connection between us and nature. Watering was measured with empty tuna cans placed precisely. Once a week spraying with mouthwash kept bugs off the landscaping and a can of beer in the sprayer fed the lawn also. Time doing and learning? A lot. Worth it? You bet.

My presence was an added value when David came home for chemo treatment. I sat beside the bed when he had difficulty sleeping doing what I do in thought. I was not cognizant of his awareness until he thanked me for sitting. He told me that he was able to let his grip on himself relax and sleep was his relief for the guard on himself.

Important? How often everyone’s need to have a someone sit by us?

When I met my friend to go walking to relieve her tension, I said let’s put away the toys because it looks like rain. Only toys she said but you and your husband worked to buy them and you respect your work? Never thought of it that way she said. I said the lesson then is the work means nothing and there is no respect for it.

Most people do not think of children as a sacred trust with lessons carefully taught. Most think children are clones of them and a biological thrust of insignificance.

Carrying things too far am I? But this casual attitude permeates every aspect of our lives. Do I ask one more thing to do with a list of too many already?

When I saw a credit card tossed on the counter with disdain for the checkout person I wanted to slap that hand who did it and apologize to the cashier. The attitude said to me I am bigger than this small purchase or it’s only dirty money. I wanted to ask if he had so little respect for his work that gave him credit to buy or the cashier not worth simple courtesy? I was ashamed of what I saw.

Ain’t nothin’ much? But it is a whole lot of much this casual attitude. With Covid 19 I worry a lot about attitudes. I do not relate to souls bartering for rights to sit on the beach or go to the malls in droves. You have a value you have not discovered. Please, take precautions, wear your mask.

Because I want Others to value you, I wear my face mask, to keep our planet afloat until they do. We are in precarious waters.

photo by John S. Hallissey

June 10, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Sending The Future A New Direction. . . .

   To change history. . .a new path. . .

I had been at sixes and sevens (so to speak) this week. I should explain that the idiom means things being in great doubt with me.

The idiom is centuries old coming from (more nearly surmised) the English. Since I married into an Anglo Saxon Protestant family, I was introduced to what were strange customs for me. And this idiom was one of puzzling language.

Since being just twenty, eager to please, I learned quickly, both joyfully and askance sometimes.

Leading me to conclude at almost a decade less than a century, that for peace to ensue among men of diversity, those things which unify us as a species should be taught in all beginning grammar schools along with the differences in cultures.

It seems the differences in worlds (and words) and we are just one of many, are prime fodder for simmering anguish.

How we are united in so many ways fade in many minds while the differences sadly become up front. And the differences wielded so well are the fears quietly smoldering unknown even to the holder but when given voice turn to rage.

Tyrants live in various houses and use their tools so wisely they leave Heaven aghast as to the hurt that is done. Tyrants need not use hostility. They need not use weapons which destroy anything but self esteem.

And many are they who use their own neglected self esteem to drain the other of pity and sympathy and strength. And because the tyrants feel not appreciated, they say in so many words, I am number one and let no one in this house forget it. And tyrants proceed to devastate laws and their abiding citizens along with their countries and constitutions of families, be they charters or people.

And because so many think their futures depend on the largess of the tyrants, in fear they remain silent. Until the time the disparaged ego rises and takes a stand.   It is written. . . .

At all times you can change your destiny.   You can continue to love in the face of rejection. You can continue to have faith in the face of no faith. You can continue to build a life in the face of no life. And because you know this and continue to do it, you will be creating a new path and a new method which will in the course of history, change it.

Your acts upon your days have already sent the future into a direction which will reveal itself. They will know who we are by the unfolding days. We will now stand proud.

artwork by Claudia Hallissey

June 5, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Long Past The Time. . .earth in hostage. . .

(I scribed this on February 24, 2018 and it was posted on that day. Sadly it bears repeating .)

There are times that call men to action and this is one of them. It is time that certain ideas give way to the new ideas but ones that have been incubating for a long time within the hearts and minds of those given to thought.

We are long delayed in giving space to different kinds of consciousness. Long delayed in giving space to those whose minds and physical brains have doors open to places the average person does not.

The still mind is a comfort zone for most. The comfort being in the place where the meals are hot and the days fall into a pattern that give little leeway for the eventful to happen unless taken into hands of those of ill intent.

Long past the time now we have gone expecting man to become zealous in his attitude to bring peace and growth to the human beings of which we are a part. The human is not only physical but is divine. The human had his beginning with the stars and is intent on claiming this innate knowledge.

With every event that comes to life in the human sphere seems to bring calamity in large doses. Wars are taken as common within the boundaries of the race that prolongs the anguish of ancients. And little reason lies behind the events except giving action to desires that look to give meaning to the life that has little in it.

Long has man looked for reason to add adventure to his day. And leaving the children and spouses behind to do so in the names of work or patriotism or to hunt seemed reason enough. We take to task these reasons. We take to task the lazy minds that look for physical adventure and not the considerate thoughtful work to give meaning. Why the need to be entertained than for minds that look for answers to give meaning to the purpose of life?

Long has man preferred to fight wars over boundaries instead of looking to what unites the human race. Instead of looking to what unites the spirit in manner to bind one to another. Is it so boring for man to look to what will prolong and give impetus to the progression of humankind? Is there so little love between man that there is no common ground?

From a cosmic view, other worlds must look to see what they can invest in the dailyness to spur man on to promote this planet to growth and progress. We look to see where we can inject some adrenalin to make the intensity work with fervor.

It is time long gone that the one god, the one world, the one man, the one consciousness be held onto with such religious fervor. It is time to expand the thinking to include the divine within each human giving access to the spiritual energy and psychic fulfilment which permeates and upholds the universe and universes. It makes for accountability of the each in his life with the knowledge that names are attached to actions which will demand restitution.

For too long man has reclined in his comforts with the god he created who will forgive and forget all his transgressions. That with forgiveness because his beginning was less than ideal and the burden was a heavy one to carry that he would be forgiven whatever transgressions he committed. The news now is that names are attached to these errors in judgments and these errors must be accounted for.

Misdemeanors are different than sins. Sins are different than psychological impairments. And impairments of judgments are still not dismissed but lessons must be learned so that progression in human lives will not be held in abeyance but will have its time for full potential.

Babies being born are wondering why they are in kindergarten when they have knowledge of worlds in attendance to the great god of wonder that is the rolling thunder of the universe. Why they are not part of the movement that rules other worlds with motion and movement toward great progress. But are lost in the illusion of slow motion that seem to immerse the adults in such pleasures. They come to us as twigs already bent with a history ready to teach and we step on their heads.

We are in the midst of worlds looking at this planet and wondering the outcome of its wondrous elements. It should have been held as graduation for souls becoming stars again. Instead it is held as the playground of souls who have learned the sophistication of its accoutrements and given them a place to play forever.

Time is now that changes will be evident. Time is now that much will be demanded. And the young whose memories now of the violence that has taken their friends and innocence will demand restitution and behavior that comes with adulthood.

The children shall lead us. And force the children in adult bodies to grow up and let loose the behaviors that have kept this beautiful planet hostage. It is time and the children shall lead because they have memory. Of the worlds they have come from and where they exhibited behavior that showed accountability.

It is time for all of us to grow up.

May 31, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
It Would Have Blown My Mind. . . .

Everything Teaches. . . .

A friend and I discussed how difficult it was for humans not to think we are the most intelligent of beings. Of course he said, no matter what color they are, people think other beings cannot be intelligent.

In Doris Lessing’s Shikasta series, Klorathy said the most intelligent were beings without mouths and had tentacles for speaking at the end of their hands.

In a February 2014 journal I scribed. . . . What if we were to introduce a creature of high intelligence but other than what you think about and say to you this is how you are in a different focus? What if you are shown in dreams how you appear to us whom you consider teachers and yet grant intelligence of the highest kind? What would you think then? Can you visualize what we see when we envision your form? What can you bring to mind?. . . .

I edited my answer for space. (It is outside my frame of reference. I can only conjure up with specifics. Lessing used language as a measure and even then I need a dictionary. For words like dwarf or bulk or wide or silvery, these I visualize. )

Work today 5.7.20. . I scribed . . . beginning what you wish as differences in appearance, we would tell you not to worry about what is fashionable. Not to worry about what your hair looks like. Except you think what you are comfortable with. And right you are. Not to be outlandish and draw attention to how you differ in appearance is one less thing you contend with.

But we take it from there. Fashionable on a daily basis you think not. It requires too much energy you find wanting. But cleanliness is crucial to you. To others who have no water to drink, cleanliness is luxury.

But many would find it difficult to pay attention to intelligence should they find a dirty exterior. Yet worlds there are, where this is not a factual but a luxury again. It would take awhile to put the olfactories to sleep and pay attention to thought. And there is the matter of speech making a big difference.

Talk about the recent experience with the Newfie, Leroy.

This is mine and it surprises me for this to come up now. . . (last week upon awaking I found Leroy out in the garage with son John and I greeted him with how well Leroy was. {in his recovery after blowing out two legs before Christmas 2019} He yodeled his greeting as he happily now does.

When I came in to get his breakfast I realized he transferred a picture to me when he yodeled and it was of yesterday when I rubbed him down with moisturizer to oil his skin and new fur, having been shaved for surgery. He loves hands on massaging. I thought immediately of the woman who talked to cows whose name I could not bring up. I googled and found Temple Grandin , whose talents were the bedrock of much needed improvement in slaughterhouses.

Since Leroy’s surgeries he is again a happy camper. He yodels in prelude to mind pictures voicing his wants. He is a case study for me in spades and in transferring thought with pictures worth 10,000 words.

Leroy brought to mind other dogs and journal entries when thought impressions occurred. I learned their needs and went about doing those. But this time I made the vivid connection with Temple Grandin.

(5.29.2020….It is not surprising now that I scribed the teacher asking about Leroy since we were into how important speech is. I had already journaled the mental picture with the yodel. Even now I see that our other dogs often did transfer pictures I accepted, though never called them intentional communication. I just knew and acted. In hindsight with today’s understanding of what all I was able to do that was not common, it would have blown my mind.

May 29, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
Welcome Nora Claire ! . . . to our World. . .

My prayer . . . we welcome Nora Claire to this world. Welcome her in thought. Deluge the sisters in harmony so that their lives will sing in delight their variations.

Songs will be different but the love sustaining will be profuse. I wish that every newborn would be welcomed in joy and abundant love. And would have untiring help in their guidance.

Such an utopia I would create with all worlds, no matter their kind or kin. Dream with me for the power resides to dream and create in all of us.

It is not in my memory bank that anyone I know has had such a birthday gift! Nora Claire was born on this Grandmother Great’s birthday, Monday. . .May 25^th 2020. Emma E. is not only a firstborn in her family, but now is a sister to Nora. Her resume, along with her talents grows, as Nora begins her stint in this classroom.

It will be a merry chase for these parents I think. Like many of us who take this corona crisis seriously, they have been in lockdown for the past two months. Begins now another phase with everyone called to the floor. Emma E. has learned words a 2 year old has not had to learn before. Words like likedown, shelter in place and face masks and orders like we have to stay at home every 2 year old knows now.

But we are fortunate that in this world crisis, we still find life generous and loving. That we will contribute to keeping it generous for the newborns as well as we can. We want each and every soul desiring space to find life good in every dimension.

So we welcome our Nora to the clan and keep her in the light. She is an on schedule baby so her vitals are normal and good. And we hope that the sisters will find their lives together to be double their pleasures. (And. . . .quietly now. . . . the parents find the two of them only half the trouble. . )

photos by Harrison and Merideth Hallissey

May 28, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
When Heavens Thought Searches Ours. . . .

I have been wondering the quality of thought and also if my life could have been spent other than what I have been about.

How much of it designed and designated and how much busy work simply to get through without causing mayhem, or just abandoning commitments and doing my thing, whatever it happened to be.

I remember the hand outstretched after my younger’s birth and giving permission to take it and leave. But who will take care of the children? The eternal question with me. Especially since I gave birth to these three.

When I was told that the Veronica today was not Who I was, in my thinking I was only Who I knew to be and did not know Other. That’s why what is this life’s participation would not be sitting in the head of Who we Were. And who I was with the deeds committed before birth would not be committed by the who I am today.

And the qualities of or the character of the then Veronica, or whoever I was, could be or were as undesirable or hurtful or dastardly as whatever needed to be unlearned by me as well as my chosen ones. We have a history because as Jesus said, the twig already is bent upon arrival also.

And therefore who is without sin, my Mentor asked. Who is without sin to cast the first stone. So he pleaded, forgive them Father for they know not what they do. There were few with prior memory.

I am awash. . . because it all makes sense. And I turn over for what I need to see in a language that I will write today to be understood. We need language in the vernacular to be an instrument of peace. I am sure others know this but with me it connects everything in my head. It makes exquisite sense and the connections are vivid. I scribed the following (in bold) May 23, 2020)

It seems like such a large task but it has taken almost a hundred years to learn. And each step has taken its toll and left you awash again. Yet you did not dismantle nor abandon. You stayed the route and continued to love. Who do you know would have stayed?

(most of them did. My sibling family except those whose lives were turned upside down. When violence took them or abandoning was survival. Yet the damage has been great because there was no one to teach or even say with meaning that this too shall pass. Education, but even formal education does not give this kind of knowledge. I don’t know what does because I don’t know what is within the individual to work with the lacks or injustices to remedy what cannot be seen to be remedied. Sometimes it is simply survival when we leave.)

It is all a matter of who holds the sparklers. Isn’t it? (don’t make it sound like a matter of who has suffered enough! Like how much can you take before you break! Then it makes it sound like some kind of game to be levied on someone still trying. Because there is an element of undergirding ethics that Doris Lessing wrote about that laws are not made but are inherent in the nature of the Galaxy or the Universes. . . .. I think that within each of us is the divine working that pleads with us to keep loving because worlds are banking their survivals on the each or someone finding the way that will open them for life with Purpose, or Divinity or even Sacredness. Its Sheen with meaning.)

That caliber of one’s thoughts will attract the caliber of teacher one needs. Or possibly what think you?

Like Minds. . .

My thoughts rove the ethers
like a magnet pulling
like thoughts to themselves.
The excitement rumbles
through my belly
while heart accelerates its beat
forcing my blood to course
through my body drunkenly.

Heady stuffs
to know that mine is thought
matched by invisible minds. . . .

I swim in conscious waters
resembling earthstone.
Pulsating, yearning, I find it humbling
to think that heaven’s thought

has searched out mine.

May 23, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
And The Uncertain Dance Is Made Easier. . .

Sometimes I think the youngers would be happy
for me to lay down my things, and pay attention to do
what other elders do, so it would be easier,
than to pretend to listen to what they do not understand,
to make fit into what they cannot relate.

Senseless no doubt it seems to nothing that swims in their heads
to give meaning to what they imbibe.

The celluloid people they watch I do not know, give fact and
form to fit what to me is meagre fare, not giving substance
to the ache seeking expression.

But alas, I try to sell my perspective with its shining specks
flittering on the white moth floating in the night, along
with the fireflies sending messages still to be read by the
night creatures.

They inhabit my sight as will the morning birds welcoming me to
acknowledge their presence with my ‘good morning world,
I hear you, I hear you.’

I fear their noise will awaken those lives still filled with the passion
of murmurings I have long forgotten.

In their place and time a fit, comparable to the seduction of a high
heeled shoe, now uncomfortable and alien to the wobbly feet.

Feet needing to support a body still needing completion but wishing
to take flight with nascent wings, promising growth.

All the time the youngers know that my having learned the steps well
makes easier the uncertain dance now in progress on the floor.

My Mentor said, do for one and you do for the whole world, for eternity then.

And I believed.

photo by John Holmes

May 19, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.
It Has To Be Taught. . . . Conscience. . .

Evolution says It has to be taught. . .

It seems like such a small thing, this matter of conscience. No big deal we think, cause everyone has one, everyone’s born with one, right? Nada. Not. No. Everyone does not have a conscience which is knowing right from wrong, or more accurately, more true from false.

It all has to be taught, like love has to be taught. But we talk about conscience, the ability to truth talk, or to feel shame when our behavior is inappropriate in public or even alone when we violate our belief systems.

Small potatoes? But we lead countries astray when we hold high positions or families when we are part of them. Or leading students astray when we should set the example: example for truth, facts, behavior. Simple as that. Or as complicated.

Having no conscience means that we feel no shame or remorse or even regret when we befoul the value system of the majority, especially when we unite for any cause and we agree on certain principles. For example, appropriate civil laws of a country are needed for the ongoing peaceful life of all citizens. Not too much to ask for.

A lot when positions of power, whether ruling heads or courts give favors to friends or those with money, placement above the law. This does not escape the notice of the rest of us who must obey to the letter of the law or face judgmental predicaments.

The behaviors of those without conscience don’t seem to suffer and their charms defy punishment. In fact they often boast they can do anything, playing on the secret desires of many who then think that getting away with inappropriate behavior is working smart. As one of my astute readers suggested, do we work hard or work smart?

Rules are changing and we should look to where the numbers are growing where knowledge does not allow options to cause harm with no penalties, no consequences anymore.

Because we grow in knowledge where to enhance all life, no matter where that life breathes. is the only option we have because to do otherwise is wrong.

Doing the right thing is what we are taught in kindergarten. Life, with its Balance or God, will find us in circumstances not as good as we’ve known. Biblical injunction is fact for those who believe Whose Vengeance it is, (and hovers beneath all knowledge we claim).

This behavior with no conscience has been costly. It has cut short lives that killed many with crossed signals; taken meaning out of families intent on working hard and flaunting defiance of the laws intending civil unity.

Heaven can only send out souls in the caliber it has received. Times they are ‘a changing, the bard sang eons ago. There is a balance to all Life no matter the belief system one calls this Balance.

And I have to say Jane, your words hang on my heart. Word hard or work smart? Balance says we have ploughed the hard ground with sweat and Life smiles in favor of the work hard majority. It seems the playgrounds are closing.

May 16, 2020

Veronica Hallissey has been writing since the 1960s, with her poetry published in a variety of small press magazines. Born into a farm family in Lockport, NY, and educated at the University of Buffalo and other midwest institutions, she brings and unusual point-of-view to her poetry, combining strong natural images with a deep spiritual language. She lives in Ramona, CA.