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GUTTED

I heard  you speak the word…married.

My mind froze. My heart stopped.

I couldn’t  breathe as it entered my body 

cutting out the space where you used to be.

Gutted. Eviscerated.

Excised with no anesthetic.

Will it still be there tomorrow?

There is no tomorrow.

I didn’t die, but we did;

taking time away with no reprieve of the past,

leaving me disfigured, severed.

Like the last time.

Love no longer has your face or body 

to invade my dreams.

Now your memory has a fence around it. An inner: No!

Irreparably, it cannot be otherwise; because it is.

It already is.

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BOOK ANNOUNCEMENT…

Coming soon – The upcoming release of Ronaye’s  book by British publisher in London, England; to be available on Amazon.

                                    

                 …with a broken wing
Expressions of
the Human Spirit

poems by Ronaye Hudyma

Description:

Whether contemporary, classic, or peppered with Elizabethan eloquence, this profound ensemble of 130 poems is not stationary. They move as if conducted with a maestro’s baton –fluid between the euphoria of life and love, the drama, the anguish of death and loss, with every nuance of human emotion spilling upon the pages.

They are poignant words written with the transparency of youth, gathering maturity and experience, evolving to wisdom, into the spiritual realm.

This is not just poetry. There are a million stories in each poem. Once for each of us. From the teenager discovering their individuality, the young adult challenged by relationships and the world around them, to the Elder denizens of Earth, who cherish their memories as veterans of life, this is a book to be read and reread, a keepsake to console, embrace and affirm your recognition of the truth within yourself that is already there.

 

 

Rain clouds brood, sulk,  huddle together,

swelling around me in conference, deliberating….undecided.

Like you were.

It drizzles, like they couldn’t make up their mind.

There’s been too many tears already.

 As the days dwindle by…

If it was beauty you wanted, I was beautiful.

It it was wisdom you sought, I was wise.

If you were indecisive, I was malleable to your mood

–a paroxysm of contradiction.

Yet you came and opened your arms

rushing in to flood every fiber of my body and mind;

filling the vacuum and desperation

of my abysmal emptiness of utter futility.

Yet as you pushed me aside and away

suddenly, from the very source of sorrow came the answer,

the strength I remember

and the courage to continue without you.

For did I really lose anything?

My love for you I have not lost.

Your love for me, I never had.

I feel a progression toward some point

both within and out of time.

This is new. Not of yesterday nor stolen from tomorrow.

The union of breath and being

distant with the echo of your voice,

my prostrate self that only pretended at life

choking on the sobs of a forgotten future.

 

 THE LONG GOODBYE

 The day came in austere, with despair;  

the sun with a sneer on its face,

a surly smile, and lips curled in contempt

as a sudden squall flared in a fit of bad temper. And you left.

Don’t speak to me of love, it’s strengths or its weakness.

Let us never again utter the word or pretend its understanding.

I’ve escaped you but briefly

knowing only the fettered freedom of a derelict turned proud.

Do I wear my wisdom badly like worn dresses and yesterday’s shoes?

What if I were to tell you it is no longer so?

Can my garish exterior– like bad make up– mask my

insatiable hunger, unquenchable thirst 

to reflect love when it’s want that I wear? No.

 

The wheel spins round and round, back to the beginning

behind the screen where you barricade yourself,

barring me from entry

where I strangle on your silence 

forgetting you all over again

just when I hoped it had ended.

TRACES

 Love dies slowly;

seeps, as if drained from an open vein

drop by drop, unnoticed,

imperceptible as a thought

while the starved heart quietly expires.

Like you, I want to say things that mock the pen

but there is little need.

I sense it as if it were tactile.

 Still…traces of you linger,

 indelible imprints;

 your memory the messenger

 instilled, encoded and continued

 in my body, blood, and brain

 –an exact replica

waiting to be born again.

IT’S BEEN A LONG LONG TIME

It’s been a long long time

since you went your way and I went mine.

I cut you loose from the moorings that held us

with nary a whimper from your lips. 

But it was me set adrift, 

Stunned into silence, rudderless and guideless,

a castaway  in a shoreless sea 

who never found a home in your heart.

Its beaten path  unravels, but mine still binds

for it always knew love is something you can’t undo.

My cameo appearance was badly miscast

fraught with too many dress rehearsals and too much past.

It’s been a long long time,

So you find your lovers, I find mine

while your world goes on without me, without fanfare or applause

 — not even a telltale ripple to ruffle the shallow surface….

And as the final curtain draws,

it doesn’t  hurt anymore–maybe a little;

 just the last gasp of my still squirming pride,

 bruised, but not yet broken.

How do I get through it when there’s no way around it?

If there’s an answer, I haven’t found it

Even though it’s been a long long time.