a free verse poem

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Hot tea, infused with sugar
white, granular, swallowed-up.
Powdered creamer swirls, 
slips inside, a marriage
of “Good Morning” 
and “Wake up”
to me, sleepy on the couch.

Pungent warmth to tongue, to throat,
to the insides…a dissipation
to soothe the memories
away. Some days they come.

survivor, me? 
The multi-syllabic mess of me?

You have so much to offer, 
she said, with a genuine smile.
She was a nice lady, put-together
well-dressed, dignified, attractive,
walking in heels up steps.
Grace on stilts with a syrupy lure,
to share myself…to share me?

My input, my experience
my story, my chrysalis
shed, to empower other
women who shift 
in bruised realities,
someone stealing their right
to just be without a 
price tag on their needs.

Those women are the me I used to be.

I don’t feel very empowered
Sitting here sipping tea.
The past rises, even if you
swallow it whole again and again.
Insufficient distance between us
for my Soul to rise up and fly free.


This poem was originally published by Blue Insights: Tea and Memories

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