blend
there is always tea in my kitchen
and almost always, a cup in my hands
filled with a history that rolls on my tongue
as collective souls take their places by my side
sipping
offering advice and gathered wisdom i know
i should follow, but, being stubborn i am
always setting off to learn things on my own
rituals
become pattern and pattern becomes design
and whispers get woven in the fabric
of the living and the dead, all the women
who came to this table before i even existed
strong
like this brew that warms my fingers, my heart
stronger than despair, or anything i have endured
strong enough to stand here before me
revealing
secrets that make me smile and shore me up
against everything yet to come in this life
one season, one cup, one breath at a time
::
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April 7th, 2012 at 9:09 am
i’d say this was my favorite which i will apply to my constantly carried coffee cup, but i love all of your posts!
April 7th, 2012 at 9:32 am
there is always a cup of tea in my hands, too…..or a half empty one sitting on my desk. that’s just how it is around here 🙂
xo
April 7th, 2012 at 10:01 am
Oh this reminds me of sitting at the kitchen table at the farm where my mom and uncles were raised and where I spent so much time growing up and staying with my grandma. Lord I miss her and this reminds me of the times at the table with her (it was coffee) in one of those old glass stovetop percolators but it’s not that different. There is such a warmth and comfort to your writing especially here. I want to curl up in it and just savor it. Thank you!
April 7th, 2012 at 10:10 am
It must be a very large cup to carry so much history. Such stories told by the well worn table, that you have shared with us, as we sit around your table with our cups, through each season.
April 7th, 2012 at 10:14 am
This actually made me a bit weepy this morning. I am a tea drinker, like my mother & my grandmother before me. As I sit here with a cup in my hands, this brings my grandmother’s kitchen to life and warms me through again.
Just lovely. Thank you for the sensoral hug.
April 7th, 2012 at 10:56 am
..life for me revolves around the big white coffee cup, filled with french roast WITH caffeine, and just the right amount of coffeemate to make the color my true taste.
my cup is never far from me.
love this, Mrs. M.
in fondest.. Tilda
April 7th, 2012 at 10:56 am
smiles…we all need those rituals…and mine is more coffe than tea, though i like an earl grey every once ina while…and there are def memories in each cup
April 7th, 2012 at 12:53 pm
You’ve done my heart a good turn this morning, felt like curling up to hear a favorite story read aloud. I’m loving these daily visits to your magical poetry.
April 7th, 2012 at 1:39 pm
Love this…and almost always, a cup in my hands
filled with a history that rolls on my tongue
as collective souls take their places by my side…
great lines.
April 7th, 2012 at 4:30 pm
That’s me but coffee instead of tea.
April 7th, 2012 at 7:20 pm
Aahh, a cuppa.
Yes, it is so much more than the drink itself. I like your idea of giving it a life of its own.
April 8th, 2012 at 8:20 am
In the UK a cuppa is the ‘go to’ for whatever ails you. Off to put the kettle on.
April 9th, 2012 at 10:20 pm
I’m in love with collective memory. You capture it so perfectly here!!!