A Registered nurse, wife, mother, poetic writer and United Way volunteer.Born in Belize, migrated to New York at age eighteen. After studying nursing, worked as an emergency room until starting a family.Having both natural and chosen children, it was the emotional struggles of the chosen ones that gave birth to many of her poems.Ruthieg believes that when all is forgotten or ignored, expressive words linger or get heard. That it is important for the hurt and wounded to have a voice, for that purpose, many of my poems were written.
That fugitive dream of shrinkage: a room in a room a door in a door. You were hurting the house affairs at midnight. The space accident starts dismanteling the life. Selective pain comes again. You start distancing from story touch,
that time pain called all to seldom all to strange in seasons, reasons of our vain rain seemed as insane. do not ring my dreams while I sleep why step lightly you may awaken nightmares as I stalk time, my
Swamy consented to give interview to an Australian team of six men None of them expected such a stunning miracle that awaited, then Swamy outlined at the outset oscillating health of the mother of one of them Who too nodded
Ceramic memories and terracotta pain; the injured crypt ultimately got opened. At urn burial, the name was absent. A pristine ritual for a nameless martyr. The sword within him was not used and pubescent bomb went unexploded. You leave a
Mother always called me the devil child She said I was loud, destructive and wild Parents told sister I was bad and she didn’t ever have to play with me Much time alone was no fun, however for friends I