Exhale!
We go dark and deep together
To a place of healing and together
...
Before the war in Liberia, my parents, though subsistence farmers, lived happily in their village. They both spoke only Kissi and Liberian English. In fact, they continued their farm work during the first few years of the crisis, even in the midst of Charles Taylor's rebels, but not without their own stories of the war.
...
First snow coming, and our bags unpacked. Quick shifts with too much luggage in the cab, and off we go. Foothills rise to meet us. As the rain fell, soon Highway 6 snakes to our adobe inn. We know the check-in people and they take our bags to the Navajo Room.
...
Unusual rain clears the morning
Sweet, innocent earth can breathe
...
Poetry sings in my soul. First wrote on autumn leaves of Pennsylvania in high school. Later, studied Poetry 101 in college and always wrote in the midnight hours as a lifeline to the universe. Born in Ithaca, New York, my odyssey took me to Istanbul and to the Muslim world early in life. Then to Harvard for a B.A. then back to Africa for years. Adopted an African family, now refugees returning home to Liberia, as my own. Am a member of the IWWG, International Women's Writing Guild, in NYC. Presently, facilitating life story writing workshops in Denver, using poetic imagery.)
Exhale In The Morning
Exhale!
We go dark and deep together
To a place of healing and together
We see the sun, the moon, the rain
And we feel each other’s hugs.
No one says a word
We all know this silence.
It is a place of healing—
Side by side, step by step
As we allow the tears to fall.
We know this brief comfort.
In the morning
We climb the tree house together.
© 2005 Vorkink
I am working on editing my poems for another chapbook. This time I want perfect binding, not staples. Many of my poems are very personal, very African, and nature oriented. Poetry sings in my soul. njv