The passage in these elegant poems is not merely the physical transference from one homeland to another, Cuba to Miami, locations separated not so much by miles as by time and emotion; it is the psychological and emotional distance that divides the two worlds, one the poet has learned to measure: the sky above/my door in Miami/over forty years/later is barely/two hundred miles north... The poems in this collection also trace the spiritual journey of the one caught in the middle who must ask, Are we gypsies, nomads,/migratory birds? In the quest is the discovery, the poem is her homeland. In a strong, sure voice, Elisa Albo defines the role of the poet as not only the questioner, but also the healer, the keeper of memory, living on the edge of a slippery pearl, an island/I have never known, I have never seen,/except on the atlas of my memory. --Judith Ortiz Cofer
The passage in these elegant poems is not merely the physical transference from one homeland to another, Cuba to Miami, locations separated not so much by miles as by time and emotion; it is the psychological and emotional distance that divides the two worlds, one the poet has learned to measure: the sky above/my door in Miami/over forty years/later is barely/two hundred miles north... The poems in this collection also trace the spiritual journey of the one caught in the middle who must ask, Are we gypsies, nomads,/migratory birds? In the quest is the discovery, the poem is her homeland. In a strong, sure voice, Elisa Albo defines the role of the poet as not only the questioner, but also the healer, the keeper of memory, living on the edge of a slippery pearl, an island/I have never known, I have never seen,/except on the atlas of my memory. --Judith Ortiz Cofer