Thursday, June 25, 2009

6.25.09 ~ Ruta ~ CMpart369-Fr-Sg2.jpg


Ruta
by
JM Shephard

The plump, slightly disheveled blonde woman made facial contact with the other riders on the bus. Facial contact was all that was possible because, the woman was not only blind; she quite literally had no eyes. The empty sockets dipped down into her face, yet the curves were so abruptly soft that she looked more angelic than grotesque. This fact aside, she knew where the others on the bus were, and moved her face in their varied directions as the bus pulled out of the shopping center.

In the midst of such finality, her calm was stunning. Her mouth rested in a slight pinch, as though she were reviewing her day and planning her evening. Her posture revealed no trace of past screaming tirades of agony at her loss, if it was, indeed, a loss - or perhaps it was something she had always known, possibly been born with. It appeared, though, as if her eyes had been plucked from her in some terrible surgery. A thin scar underlined each socket, deftly underscoring the possibility that someday she might have the chance to have eyes again.

Tonight she is going to brush her hair. Fifty strokes in each direction, letting it fall across her hands as she guides the brush sensually through the fine golden-white strands. Each stroke will tell her an answer, a mystery, a dream, and she will let herself languish in the warm safety of this soothing ritual. It is one of the few treasures she allows herself. She is really quite a practical person and her time is taken up with the necessities that guide her survival. But, she loves to brush her hair and dream. In her head, the most beautiful dances flow. Her mind oozes colors that saturate through her, painting her with the scenes of her dances. Sometimes there are bluish white snowflakes that swirl about. At others the red stillness charts a large square about her. But, the best is when the rainbow descends in scintillating kaleidoscopes that weave and sway themselves into the very pores and fibers of her soul. She feels like satin then, and she brushes her hair.....

1993 ~ Ruta JM Shephard ~ JOY in the arts!

No comments:

Post a Comment