I absconded into night, taking the darkness with me
so there would be no shadows on your eyes when morning awoke;
that beams of light sifting through the windows,
could bathe your face, coaxing your lids to open.

No need to search for where I am.
Where would I go?
I dwell in the interim between and beyond earth and sky,  –everywhere and nowhere, where Time is not–beyond reach of each;
Yet I harbor the vicissitudes of both states in every thought you have of me,
every word you speak of me, in every memory you know as me.
My voice resounds in your laughter,
reverberates like cathedral bells calling the faithful.
Look above. The saturated clouds are swollen
with your tears I weep.
Look below, look within. There is no place I am not.
I am the sun on your shoulders
when you walk to the ocean’s edge
and cast your eyes on the shimmering necklace
that clings to the shoreline,
blinking like diamonds as it washes across the sand;
the surge of joy, gratitude, and humility you feel swelling within you like the tide itself. 

Do not mourn.
Listen to the earth’s soul breathing in and breathing out.
Let it wash over you, pulling away the barnacles.
Every time you count the colors of blue in the ocean,
watch the birds soar into infinity,
or see the miracle of a bud bursting into flower,
I will  exist in all these things.
When I walked through the door, taking the darkness with me,
I found…. not death, but life.



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


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.




More than anything,

I want to remember the tender things

in a renaissance of every memory I have of you…

barefoot on Santa Monica beach under a canopy of stars

against a backdrop of an ocean song playing…

the waves crashing upon the shore

the echos of our sighs rising to a crescendo

as we made love draped in darkness

and forbade the sun to rise.

After  coming home…how I defied submitting to sleep

fearing I’d lose you–

how sacrilegious to dream of someone else– 

then the joy of opening my eyes and seeing you beside me,

feeling the comfort of your warmth next to mine;

when, still drowsy in the dark, 

the night assured me you were mine for a few hours more.

You need no sight, sound or touch to define you.

I sensed you, not perceived you,

knew you by your presence–

A creation complete when God found expression through you.

And then the lingering hangover of every heartbreak

from too many bad choices, too many regrets–

that holds us, binds us together in bondage

with invisible strings;

and forever will, until time overtakes us,

’til we take our last breath,

and slip back to the source from whence we came.



Wipe your feet before you enter.

There is mud on your shoes

accrued from the collective 

as you wander through the minefields

of the human mind.

Negative thoughts are contagious, 

drag you along, stick, cling to you,

raining on your surface self,  

soaking you, convincing you they are yours.

Shake them off. 

Strip bare and listen to the silence.

It is your umbrella.


There is no sunset,                   

Only darkness closing in–

the black ink of night spilling upon the pages

of what was once great literature, 

now ending as cheap fiction.

You were written as indelible and

I, only penciled in, then erased.

There are no stars over the marquee, no blinking lights.

It was me who crowned you King of Hearts–

a bit player with a walk-on-part

eclipsed by your shadow, waiting in the wings

for a chance to be your leading lady.

After all these years, all these tears, 

you are gone, like you never were.

Every thought is dissonant with how little I meant to you,

every breath a negation of life

and  how little time I actually spent with you.

There was no you, there was no me.

 My mind conceived you, my heart deceived me 

Until a cold-water awakening

yanked me out of my stupor

from a worldliness sleep

into realms of wakeful truth,

ripping the residue of what remained as love from my eyes.

These words are all I leave you– 

not as a kiss or a touch,

perceptible only by pen and paper.


In the darkness

a sun sinks down

through jungles of imagination

mired in mind

through wastelands of “why?”

In the daylight

a moon rides high

along a palpitating phrase

through saturated emptiness

where winds blow pollen

on a suspended seed.


The fear has passed

and my passion has burnt away

but what remains is like

the contentment of a confession.



Time is the classroom in which we develop the skill of living;

And, being students, we master our craft by

drawing no boundaries, denying no truth.

Once you know, you can’t unknow it.

Rise above, or go below it.

But, no, I cannot deny the pulsating pain

that lacerates and pierces my calm

in a migraine of madness;

for I am entangled in the web of the matrix –

the threads of a spider that spins mesmeric illusions.