by Judy Kukuruza
The words that then HAD to be put on paper Now float inside her head and heart Elusive to others, not written down, Still, a comfort to her - inside. Then the hill, the forest, HAD to be hiked, the cool water HAD to be dived into, Now she treads gingerly, floats atop the water Cherishing the comforts nature affords her. Then she conquered the body aches, read books all night in dim light - found jobs to feed and clother her children, studied, learned, championed others without judgement. Now the body is alien, demanding sleep. Eyes blur as they try to read; Hands cramp trying to write, Feet stumble and eyes tear up too easily. Her ears gather the loved music and cawing crows. The wolf spirit within rises to once again survive. She finds the magic she holds inside, Wondering and in awe of her spiritual realm. Glancing at a mirror, she sees an unrecognizable reflection. A laugh rises - she never saw herself then either. The children within laugh, cry, romp in puddles There is no THEN for them, as she lives in the NOW.
Retired college instructor from CSUB and Bakersfield College. She published her memoir One Body/Many Souls in 2018, and later Poems to Ponder, Little Stories to Play with in Your Mind, and Letters. She publishes her blog, “Our Spiritual Journey” through Word Press.