Vicky W. Salazar

Fresno, California

Vicky grew up in Dallas, North Carolina. She's a licensed vocational nurse and has worked for the past sixteen years in the Health Care field. A distinguished member of The International Society of Poets, she has been published by The National Library of Poetry in book anthologies entitled "Tomorrow's Dream" and "The Best Poems of the 90s." Vicky has collected awards and certificates of merit for poetry and has complied a collection of her poems entitled, "Echoes In The Wind." Vicky says, "Life has its good and its bad. Writing poetry helps me focus on the precious and beautiful in life."

BARRIER

This barrier stolid
oh how I long to
chisel, chisel away
ice cold stone
my friend and dear
and banish, banish forever
disquieting tears
But this barrier
reigning bold
I stumble as some humble soul
blind
forever seeking an entrance sign.

The Dragon's Realm

What happens when one is the victim standing
out in the front yard like a mangy old dog
and the heart cries: Don't slam the door, let
me in. I'm not the enemy you think I've been.

What happens when the system is closed and she cries
with stories untold, of false accusations and twisted .
motives from the accuser of her soul

How can he think I'm the enemy in sorrow, she cries
when all my good intentions have been denied. He doesn't
see me as I really am: he's drowning in his world of the Dragon's Realm

Trapped in the never ending cycle of avoidance and control
When he last felt the breath of fire and smoke, he knew
it was coming from HER, he swore.

Forever fighting the dragon's increasing power over him
the wall, an impretable fortress: for him to understand
he'd have to leave his fort unprotected and confront his
fears and feelings of helplessness - the breath of fear
and the fire of rage, the smoke of powerlessness, protecting
him in his cave.
His enemy, the pardner he loved, knowing,but denying she loved him-
If only she could climb out of the Dragon's Realm.

It wasn't her, his enemy within, it was that damned smoke fire
and breath of fear
that captured them hostages all those years.
And the stories go on, for centuries untold,
until one speaks of balm for the opressed, recovery
slowly begins, as cleansing water from the rushing
stream, brings forth the peace, freedom brings.

The Addiction

Ephemeral and evanescent
his life lived in the mist
days ebbing, slipping in and out,
of rosy hues, golden dawns
evenings adrift

On a lawn at Fort Bragg
sprawled, wasted to the world
cursing, sputtering, muttering
flying monsters whirled
holding him a prisoner
in the land of the free
not one gunshot or bootstep on foreign soil
his prison, vodka filled
blasted, cadaverous, blotted down
the honorable name
this personable war was not a boy's game.

Once he'd ran among lilly fields
and rushing streams
he'd had his visions and boyhood dreams

But on that October night sprawled
among these leaves - a cold wind blew to his
hot body, orange skin and yellow eye whites
his spirit floated out and danced upon the light
and came freedom finally

from afar - he'd left his hut behind
and danced among the stars.