F O I (Ruth Omdalen) – Issue 20

I was decluttering the house, boxes and drawers and found some very old papers with some writings I did when I went to the University for creative writing while in my 40s.

I had felt I needed a boost to my self esteem, so never having gone to college as a teenager, I decided to go as an adult.

I want to share this poem, strange as it is, but keep in mind I wrote it at a time in my life that I was very conflicted and going through some major changes.

 

The Judge

 

Once I believed some gray and giant judge

Kept careful toll of all the deeds of man.

That with some black and lusty kind of pen

He cautiously recorded every petty crime

And most of all,

Mine

 

Now I know there is no judge with righteous pen

Who bothers keeping track of deeds and men.

For every face records what life is all about

And sculpts a memory with every crack and line

And most of all,

Mine

 

By Ruth Omdalen, Eau Claire, Wisconsin

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