Ruth's Real Life

  (It’s not what you think.) My life, to quote Carole King, has been ‘a tapestry of rich and royal hue’. For as long as I can remember my tapestry has been stitched, not with fine and silken threads but with words. I can remember, even as a little girl, the excitement generated by the yellow blocks of paper that Mom would bring home from work. I drew pictures and invented words and worlds that took me away from the loneliness of being the youngest child and only girl in our large family. When I was twelve, I won my first writing competition. The story, about the 1820 Settlers, has long since been lost but I still remember what it felt like to write that piece. The story was submitted to the competition by my English and Maths teacher, Mrs Dorothea Knox. I still remember what it felt like when she beat me with a long wooden ruler with a metal edge. She called the ruler Mr Persuasion and wielded it daily on those of us who did not shine at Maths. I never shone. In ...

There are times when life seems to be nothing but a mad, unconsidered rush to get ‘things’ done. This new poem is a reflection of a longing for stillness. It is a longing for the space and time to go deeply within the forests of soul and of nature, there to find the essence of self that I know has not been lost. Will you take a moment to sit quietly with me? If you are quiet Still, there must be time (and time) – For the Old Gods: Gnarled, gentle fingers Roots dipped in molten core – Wait – bluebalancing summer skies On a rainbow of green on green. If you are quiet, You may enter in beneath the boughs On moss slippered praying feet, There, They will meet with you, Barked-feathered-bright-eyed, Quivering with Life. If you are quiet, They will let you hear A wild of wind, Winding itself around the world, Whispering the stories of stories Of things you always knew. And if you dare, And if you will, You may find the old self, ...