Poetry/Mental Health/Autoimmune
Sometimes My Bitter Coffee Smiles
Cloud Closures, Open Cafe, Catching the Ray
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” — Maya Angelou
Yes.
It does.
Even when its bitter.
Silky effervescence position
themselves right —
And the coffee smiles.
You may not have noticed.
I bite my coffee,
So the mug won’t break.
Yet, often it cracks.
Brown fluid seeps through gaps,
Ceramic chips camouflaged
With the floor tiles, pricks my foot,
Already reeling under plantar fasciitis,
It sometimes bleeds.
A single red stream tickling
down the point of infliction.
Nothing much.
It takes two days for a scab
to cover,
And I carry on.
Because this is what I can do….
Because there are so many
I can never ever,
I see the normalcy around me
And feel the nothingness inside,
I feel my numb feet beside
Nimble running toes setting afoot
Into the winning world…..
I let them borrow my china,
But they return them with chipped brims
and sharp edges —
I don’t discard.
I plant my po(a)thos cuttings,
And grow them into beautiful vines,
the broken places lending that uniqueness —
Keep it on my window sil,
Where the sun warms the mud.
I do it every time.
Because I know,
There are things
I can never ever…..
This is what the world throws
at me,
And I grope in its intangibility,
Corners of mind rusted,
Unused, fogged, delirious,
Stiffened fingers don’t rise in prayers
But pick up the brush to make every
Haphazard stroke speak,
When ashes of words fly away
Gushingly flow with the running breeze,
Where do they land?!
With the dust?
With the soil?
Within a cobweb?
I thought when the Creator sighs deep
the wind blows……
Mortgaged life OURS,
Keep believing YOU did,
Keep borrowing,
Keep destroying,
But
Can you borrow a smile to destruction?!
Smiles that tell stories which carry the miles —
‘Cos just a muscle twitch doesn’t create
Smiles that walk….
And so,
I bite my coffee.
That my mug won’t crack.
You see.
That is when even my bitter coffee smiles…..
Open Cafe: “You are not your illness. You have an individual story to tell. You have a name, a history, a personality. Staying yourself is part of the battle.” — Julian Sheifter
Somedays somethings need to be told.However your wait for the right moment you realise it never arrives. You make the time right.
And I today I talk about Invisible Illness and its social ramifications.Anybody suffering through this knows, after the initial physical burden, it becomes more a social issue.
Even the most sensitive of people tend to make you uncomfortable in a way he/she doesn’t understand — even I am guilty of this in the past.
And when I analyse, I know it was my ignorance. I took a safe route of being Socially courteous to avoid hurting unknowingly.The reason writing and reading takes centre stage for us all.
And the sole reason I decided to write. To become the voice of many who are suffering in silence but cannot voice or articulate their pain.
I don’t claim I am an ace, but a bit lucky than many to have some workable tools at my disposal.
So, I write today not as a complain or grudge but to gently tap on your shoulder as a reminder to treat people with courtesy when they declare their chronic conditions, which unlikely you will understand as a normal person (but that’s okay) and to be safe, extend that to everyone,which may include people yet to come out of their ‘pain-closet’.Painting: The Chaos Series-The Mellow,Abstract with acrylic and knife on Cold-pressed canvas.
A story of Himalayas and Himachal Pradesh, a picturesque state in the North of India is beautifully depicted with its charm and not-so-charming- changes by Neera Handa Dr in I cannot go to the mountains again.
A poem by Franco Amati with such poise and poignancy in Stay-inside-the-songs, where he pays tribute to U2/Bono, in a fan-boy moment.
Somedays some reads startle you. I was, when I read Andromeda & Xander
in Nucleus.
Sayōnara from Soul Bay. Your visiting, engaging, encouraging makes this world better to live. Hope you had a wonderful Festive week!
I enjoy writing about things around me that yield influence, just like my Pothos. Leaving with an image of the same from my collection whom I have consider a great teacher:
