Ruth Pallek lives in the hamlet of Fenwick with her husband. Retired from the rose-growing buisness after 43 years, dreams put aside previously have re-emerged. Time to put down the budding knife and pick up the pen. Words and music stored for many years are coming back to speak to a soul that craves to ponder, re-read and take time to renew energy in God's garden of grace. Silversmithing and enameling are a passion taught in the inhome studio to emerging artists in the area. Creating beauty—using nature for inspiration—helps healing to happen in individual lives as God sends them for his purpose.
We know better,
Not to talk solves nothing.
Fear grinds our hearts of stone.
Hurt, stored away in jars of pain,
Loiters in small, dark chambers of our souls.
We cry out.
Pride, the ugly jailer,
sends tentacles of strongest steel to rob us,
of our peace.
The hinges of our troubled hearts, rust.
Bound together by blood,
We all suffer together.
Who will make the first move for freedem?
Who will shake the arm, frozen,
In it's socket of pride?
Why did the fist come down,
so many years ago?
Is there a reason for this pain we feel?
Guilt, rides on us all.
Sleep, does not absolve us of our part,
that we all play together,
Time does not wait for us,
As we refuse to make peace
in our sullen cave,
Our children bear the brunt,
Of this uneasy silence.
They see adults who are children again.
Small ears hear the talk,
Of new beginnings.
They look for change,
They wait for words of forgiveness.
Their sadness of apartheid ,
is reflected in lonely eyes.
Their trust deflates and they grow older
Knowing that the missing key
Is the turning point to family happiness.
Copyright 2006 Ruth Pallek