Poetry (Greek): I create.

You burned a hole in my heart,
Ripped it to shreds.
I never had a chance.

You stole my heart,
You with your timid smile
And hopeful eyes.

When I came to you,
My heart open, a gift
You poured in your
Orphans and homeless,
Your sick and weary—
Yet it was them that made me love you.

How I wept, when I was torn from you,
The grief consuming, exhausting.
Although time, distance and other loves
Have changed me,

You are still nestled in the
Recesses of my heart,
Lodged there eternal in my memories.

You have been sad, yet very brave,
As you rose from your bondage
Proud—Defiant!

Ukraine, Ukraine! My heart hasn’t changed,
My love is still true, yet fearful of loss.

Ukraine, we stand with you. Ukraine, we
Are proud of you. Ukraine, stand strong and
Free, Ukraine. We weep for you. Ukraine.

We pray for you. Ukraine.
We are with you.
Ukraine.

-February 27, 2022 Dominique M. Snedeker

Winter dreams over wind-swept plains
Of things deep inside, resting,
Until the fullness of time.
Snowbanks and hoary frost hide
The gems, the jewels of seeds and things
Not yet in due season.

Winter sighs the howling wind
Burying the secret things in
Blankets of snow,

And Winter dreams with the seeds
Of the coming time
When awakening covers the earth.

-Dominique Snedeker
January 10, 2022

At times like these I miss my grandma,

Whose soothing voice and pie brought peace, with

Grandpa by the fire, wooly slippers and thumbs worn deep with soil--with fields of corn and tractor oil.

The dampened muddy fields hide fallow,

In mist, in seasons changing and the ever-present threat of rain or sun,

As time demands the season in due course.

I miss that cottonwood,

Sentinel of

Eagles’ nests and cows,

Who's puffs

Like giant wishes float

In breezes and sunlight

Till they settle in the dirt and

Wait, ‘till time and season

Erupt in purpose.

How I long for the peace of youth, when

Others better knowledged guard the

Circle of life. But as time rustles in the cottonwood

In calves and saplings, I find

My seed has sprouted

In the fullness of time.

At times like these I miss my grandma,

But I find her here in the mirror,

In the corners and creases around my eyes.

And I know my time has come on the wall,

To watch,

Protect, to guard

The dance.

By Dominique Snedeker

November 10, 2020

The last hurrah of sunsets,
Of popcorn spilled movie nights,
And roaming dawn to dusk on bikes
Has past in a flurry of

Just one more sip,
And one more snuggle,
And five more comments
About dinosaurs and bees.

Goodnight my darlings. Goodnight.
Tomorrow brings a new adventure,
Of numbers marching two by two
And letters painting Dick and Jane and Spot adventures
On the canvases of your minds.

Hush my darlings. Hush.
Close your eyes and sleep
For what dreams may come
For what you will become.

-Dominique Snedeker,

August 26. 2020

Photo by Amberleigh Muehlebach Photography

I have no passion (in my heart),

Like an old dry stone,

Long since come to settle,

not in the midst of a multitudinous

Waterfall,

Nor a foundation to the many

heights,

but

as a decoration in the yard

of a mediocre

house.

I am dry dust;

I crumble at a whisper;

I puff away not in

The roaring gale, nor the

Lashing hurricane,

But I float away on

Nothing, like dandelion seeds.

It takes nothing to move me.

But it takes everything to move me—

The steadfast rock,

Hard, cold. Stuck.

Yet You have planted

A word in my heart,

That must grow

Roots, and shoots, and leaves.

Your promise never

Deters,

Never turns away,

Never doubts and

Remains, like a mother

Hovering over her babe,

Nurturing, feeding, drawing

That speck into being,

Into flame.

Your promise is Your love,

and it surrounds me

Deep and wide,

Enfolding my cold

Dark heart in the

Depths of the earth,

Secret, hidden,

Till I at last

Emerge as a treasure,

A diamond,

Fit to adorn

Your crown.

-Dominique Snedeker,

August 11, 2018

I look at a photo of my old self

And I weep for the young sweet face,

No lines or creases or cares,

Just unflawed tight skin and hope.

I cry for the sorrows she has yet to encounter

And weep for the joys yet to come.

(about my grandma B after looking at old photos of her)

-Dominique Snedeker

September 17, 2016

If you hope your babe will sleep,

And find his rest without a peep,

And sleep till morning finds its way

From starry night to sun-swept day,

Forget the charge of perfect clothes,

Or diapers clean or runny nose.

What’s best for baby and for mother,

Take this advice over any other:

Get the Babe to sleep!

Yes, Get the babe to sleep.

When small mouths yawn and eyelids droop,

Yes, of course, clean up the poop,

But quickly, gently rest her head

Upon the tightly sheeted bed.

And if to crib you start to creep,

To take one fervid anxious peek,

Remember first this rule to keep,

Ensure your babe is first asleep!

For many things important are

Making you wish upon a star,

To get it done throughout the day.

The bottles, diapers, without delay

Must be washed and must be cleaned,

But wisdom useful must be gleamed,

From mothers far and old and dear,

And to live without much fear:

Just get the babe to sleep.

Yes, get the babe to sleep.

It is okay to wash the floor

and help your spouse out of the door,

and rest a moment when it’s done,

and take another pause for fun,

but when the instant of sleep descends,

your second’s repose quickly ends,

and quickly carefully to bed sweep,

your tired baby off to sleep.

-Dominique Snedeker

February 15, 2014

Photo by Amberleigh Muehlebach Photography