Poetry

We heard your voice today.

Low, rumbling, gravelly.

A voice of kindness, love, acceptance.

We knew it wasn’t you, because we saw

you in the coffin so many years ago.

But it was your voice…

We were little again, wrapped in your warm arms,

Resting against you and feeling your heart beat.

We smelled the wood smoke from your stove,

The kerosene from your lamp,

Your lavender toilet water.

We felt safe, cared for, loved.

The troubles, fear, pain all disappeared.

One little girl nestled in the arms of

one old, tired black woman that let us just be with her.

Oh, how we love and miss you Jewell!

Oh, how we treasure that love and safety!

You gave us the gift of you.

Forever and for always.

–Judy Kukuruza

We Heard Your Voice Today

We heard your voice today.

Low, rumbling, gravelly.

A voice of kindness, love, acceptance.

We knew it wasn’t you, because we saw

you in the coffin so many years ago.

But it was your voice…

We were little again, wrapped in your warm arms,

Resting against you and feeling your heart beat.

We smelled the wood smoke from your stove,

The kerosene from your lamp,

Your lavender toilet water.

We felt safe, cared for, loved.

The troubles, fear, pain all disappeared.

One little girl nestled in the arms of

one old, tired black woman that let us just be with her.

Oh, how we love and miss you Jewell!

Oh, how we treasure that love and safety!

You gave us the gift of you.

Forever and for always.

—Judy Kukuruza

Judy Kukuruza is a retired college instructor, continual student of others and bleeding heart peace lover. She has written since she learned to write. Her memoir, One Body, Many Souls, was published in 2018.

She walked into the room where
Everyone was crying.
She cried louder than them all.

She met the man
With the club
And they danced the warrior’s dance.

She saw the children suffer,
So she cast off their tormenters
With ease.

She looked after the widows
And quenched their parched lips,
So they honored her
With memories of her kindness forevermore.

The children danced around her feet
As she crowned them with priceless jewels.
They went out and saved the world.

She looked upon the man with the club
And saw his heart.
He put down his club.

Then she looked around the room and heard
No one crying.
She then found herself,
In the silence.
–Lily Hobbs

Recently retired, Lily is a late-blooming independent writer, just getting her feet wet. As a member of the Writers of Kern in Bakersfield, California, she’s getting the support, encouragement and guidance needed. In addition to her love of non-fiction and all things Spiritual – both reading and writing – she discovered a love for poetry through an interview with Mary Oliver by On Being Studios. For the first time in her life, Lily began hearing life in poetic lyrics and occasionally tries her hand at it. Find out more about Lily at www.justonething.site.

Problems
Problems
Problems
No wondering when they’ll appear
But when you do, you try to solve
Although it’s not as easy as closing a door

An immortal chore
No time to runaway
They’ll never stray

Living problems never leave
There’s a way for sure.
Do not close that door
We just have to find the cure.

—Rose

Driven by empathy, Rose and her sister founded Kind Girls Make Strong Women, a volunteer organization determined to change the world one kind act at a time. She’s considered a best-selling comic at her local elementary school and just finished her second full length, middle grade novel. When she’s not saving (or creating) the world, you can find Rose with her trusty dog, Harry Potter.

In youth every tree is a jungle gym
Sticks a call for a sword fight
The joy of pretend fills the imagination

As a teen, music and fun carry the tune
Rash, stubborn unwilling to listen
Blazing one’s stumbling path

As an adult, planning a family, buying a home
Too involved in the tango of life
Chasing dreams, creating NOW

Then, time suddenly speeds out of control
Etched lines and graying hair
Begin to camouflage the person

Observers only see past, old
They cannot imagine the vibrant
Person held prisoner within

Encapsulated in fading time
Mind, the last treasure
Dims leaving only snips of memory

The fear of not knowing
Crawls along synapsis of energy
Broken, misfiring

Faces swim into focus
And melt away
Leaving a blank canvas

—Diane Lobre

Diane retired from the Hawaii Public Health Institute (HIPHI), where she assisted with its mission of providing education and advocacy leadership on key public health issues. Prior to moving to Hawaii, Diane held a brief position with Bakersfield Life where she wrote profile pieces on local architects. She hopes that her association with WOK will push her to submit her work for publication

A silvered crescent moon smiles
on the sparkling icy snow-covered meadow below
Silent wolves gaze at the arctic sky
head erect, ears pulled forward
anticipating, anticipating

A clear crisp boreal sky is sprayed with stars
like bursts of wild flowers strewn on an alpine hillside.
In the distance, past the shadows,
the dark horizon blushes with a frosty glow,
bearing witness to the swelling overstep of prospectors and their gold mines
anticipating, anticipating

A quiver of nocturnal green
stretches across the vast stillness
then evaporates like a melting mirage
like foreplay, promising something more.
My desire broods like that of a young, inexperienced lover.
Will this be the night?

Without warning,
she dances across the night sky
with a kaleidoscopic hocus-pocus
emerald, rose, blond and lilac
shimmying with a boogie and a woogie
I only wish I could hear the sounds
inspiring her antics
as she smears the heavens with her joy.

Her name is Aurora
Her song is her own
Her light is within

—Anke Hodenpijl

Anke Hodenpijl developed a love for poetry as a youngster while learning to speak English as a second language. Poetry has always been her “happy place”.