This is the poem that made the multi-awarded poetess Deborah Brooks Langford the cry which she mentioned in her interview conducted by the beautiful Author Susan Joyner-Stumpf Nothing impossible in the heaven beneath... My children are my golden treasure... bringing back my thoughts to my yesteryears my story began when I was a teenage mother... through breastfeeding, I nurtured my first son till no milk from me, I could squeeze upon I wished to feed him nutrients he essentially needs to abound I lacked to provide him; my world seemingly didn't go round it bled my heart as my purse was thin and empty windows were only covered by sacks. That was how pity was we and nothing could be found in every corner of our dinky shelter even tiny ashes of regrets couldn't be found in there ...how bare it was.. it was representing me... from there, I just learned to dream though not for me but for them I believe it's not late to create a nest for my coming children behind that huge moun...
As I sit here in the twilight, I hear only the blaring breeze, swaying the leaves in different directions. I cherish this sound of nature. I feel I am in a sacred realm, a place where everyone dreams to be. It whispers hope to my soul. It brings calmness to my mind, clearing away everything unnecessary. I detach myself from uncertainties. I turn my back on worries and weariness. I am grateful for the days ahead and for the peaceful nights to come. I await the gracious years waiting for me, where I shall meet many souls, speak to their hearts, and leave a paramount legacy. Even with empty hands, I am rich within. And I will be remembered... AS THE ME Helen A. Sarita
I feel the calmness of my soul, the excitement of my being, wondering what the days ahead may bring. I wait for nature’s whisper, the coldness of the night. I breathe the silent air, I can almost see and smell the coming rain. There is comfort beneath my wings; I read the messages between the lines. I let flow a stream of quiet tears — not of sorrow, but of release. I feel the stillness of the room, yet hear the riot of unspoken words. I bless the comfort found upon your shoulder, and in this quiet space I am filled again with the gentle, precious memories of the past. I shared what rose from deep within, and saw how many hearts were touched. It is the passage of my spirit, lingering soft and keen, waltzing gracefully. My inner being fully blended with the fullness of my wandering thoughts — My immortal truthfulness, the light that guides, the voice that remains powerful, yet at times fallible, weak, kept being drawn by spirit, which is p...
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