I found a scrap of paper on which my mother, Ruth (Stewart) Voisin, wrote a poem. In December 1945, World War II had finally ended. Ruth was only 18 years old. She had just left home and moved to Philadelphia to enroll at the Franklin School of Science and Arts. This was against her father’s wishes, who said college was no place for women. Her mother had died two years prior. With no financial help from her father, she began her way in the world.
She always loved poetry and transcribed many famous poems in her notebooks. She also wrote her own poems. In this one, I can envision her sitting in her room at the YWCA looking out her window to the street below: A young woman on her own, and filled with a sense of peace and hopefulness about the future.
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