Two Guests for Mourning Tea~ By Laura Maschal

Loss rings the bell, lilies in hand.
The nomad you greet at the door,
cloaked in nostalgia and 
smelling of the sea, the desert,
the deep and distant wood.
Ah, let us sit for just awhile and 
sip on sweet memories,
line them up like seashells 
and sepia photographs while we
steep in the ceremony of letting go.
We cry and we cling, promise
to never be strangers.

Grief creeps in three hours late,
wearing yesterday’s sweatpants.
A lumpish, heavy-breathing oaf,
laden with boxes of guilt and regret, 
who sneaks up behind you at the sink
while you scrub with a vengeance
the same pan over again.
You stumble and bump, steam-faced,
until your bones topple like teacups.
All the bitter spills out, pooling
among the shards of earthenware
and unread tea leaves.


Author Bio:
Laura lives on an island. She has been writing poetry since she was 7-years-old. "I am compelled to write. It's how I make sense of the world and my place in it." Nature is a favorite theme, but also moments of struggle or pain we face as we go through life. Her first book of poems, Hatchling, is available through Amazon.com