Four Poems by Lilija Valis

 

AVALON 

 

If you find the island

of apples and mists,

vine-covered hills

 

where the wounded King

Arthur was taken to heal,

where everything you need

grows without ploughing,

fruits in abundance

as you lean back

in a garden of roses

listening to a flute

and the distant laughter

of people in harmony

with sacred laws,

an island ruled pleasingly

by nine sisters,

healers and enchantresses,

making it easy to reach

one hundred years or more,

                      

if you find this Fortunate Isle,

send me a message

after you settle in.

A TOWN CALLED PARADISE 

 

They gave Eden another chance --

the retired, widowed, disabled --

their pensions too small for cities

so they moved into a wild garden

shaded by pine and oak at the foot

of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

 

They set up homes, trailer parks

planted individual gardens

neighbour looked after neighbour.

They called the town Paradise.

 

They knew the ancient history –

they could deal with the reptiles

but not with the fast moving flames

that surrounded them one day,

torching people waiting for rescue,

chasing them as they ran or drove

down the only road out of town,

burning wood falling from a red sky.

 

Did someone want to know too much?

REFUGEES 

 

A refugee in a strange land

I watched a play put on by other refugees –

grey tent outside a town

with a medieval castle on a hill –

we had lost everything

except our poetry –

I forget the play

but still remember the sky-blue

sheet stretched out behind the actors,

separating us from

what we were escaping --

I was five years old

had seen a town in flames –

the theatre rescued me.

 

The world keeps reminding us

we’re all refugees

of one sort or another

fleeing or seeking

something hard to find

so we extend a hand

to fellow travellers,

dance in storms

and send our songs

to the blue stretched out

into the unknown.

NO MONEY 

 

We had no money

but we were never poor

 

     once we were homeless

     yet felt at home everywhere

     we fled violence and theft

     but took no revenge

     we found protection

     among the wounded

 

we had no money

but we were never poor

 

     first he studied, then I did

     we had books,

     a mattress, a painting

     friends to share meals with

     we gave coins to those who asked

     others shared what they had with us

     we donated clothing to the free store

 

we had no money

but we were never poor

 

     our medicine was love

     music our prayer

     someone handed us a flower

     as we passed by in the street

     we danced at the free concerts

     in Golden Gate Park    

     watched the sun set

     in San Francisco bay

 

we had no money

but we were never poor

 

     for a short time

     while the sun shone

     fog stayed away

     no one was poor

     everyone was kin

     my home was your home

     peace sign was a greeting

     angels lived among us

     for a short time

 

we had no money

but we were never poor.

Lilija Valis has lived on three continents, in some major cities, including Washington, DC, and San Francisco when there was music in the streets and strangers hugged each other, published in book, literary and e-zine magazines, as well as nine international anthologies, and performed in public libraries, parks, old theatres, pubs, among other places. Asked to step side by COVID until it finishes its performance.