Vera Sukhumskaia

Vera Sukhumskaia

She was born in Belarus, in the Gomel region. Due to persecution from the authorities, her large family moved to Abkhazia in 1964, where there was relative religious freedom at that time. Vera’s parents were extraordinarily sacrificial and made enormous efforts to ensure that 9 children grew up in normal conditions… After finishing school and vocational school, she entered a technological college in the city of Tbilisi, then worked as a designer at a garment factory in the city of Sukhumi, later at the House of Consumer Services as a fashion designer, and at the Palace of Culture as a teacher of cutting and sewing classes and various types of handicrafts. Life in a picturesque city on the Black Sea coast was a dream for many, but for her it simply became life, with weekdays and holidays, with quiet sunrises and gentle sunsets, with snow-capped mountain peaks and seagulls over the sea… A place of inspiration for artists, musicians, and poets… But the time came when evil and envious people unleashed a cruel fratricidal war, turning this paradise corner into a devil’s meat grinder in a year… Those who fled or survived by God’s mercy remained alive… “Before this, my Heavenly Father personally told me that He would preserve me,” Vera recalls. “And He kept me, amid endless shellings, bombings, robberies, violence, and punitive operations… War, hunger, cold, blockade – these are trials that open your eyes to the value of life in another dimension, from the side of Eternity… By 2000, I moved to America, where I continue my life path under a peaceful sky, but so often among spiritual battles… Poems became an expression of experienced events and feelings, as well as a reflection of what you see, and in the soul, it often echoes, waves, or quiet sounds of holy revelations… Huge gratitude to family and friends who helped me in publishing poems, inspiring me and supporting me in this difficult period of my life, to everyone who was nearby… ‘And if the word becomes a drop, comfort for the soul, I will know that I didn’t write poems at night in vain…’”