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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AMMb9CiScI

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She steps into her morning tea

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As a ball of herbs does a bath.

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She steeps in the dawn, 

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In the cool evaporation of an autumn mist,

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As a bag does a par boiled brew.

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These quiet moments are immersive -

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They encapsulate the already forgotten dreams

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And the midnight rustlings of an almost awoken sleep.

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These moments,

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These the quiet moments,

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When the breath in her lungs are but a reflection of the breeze

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Between the emptied, brambled threshold of the wind caught in leafless trees.

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These quiet moments -

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When foresight or precaution have yet to rear their ugly heads;

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When death itself, the foregone conclusion, taps soundlessly against an abandoned window

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Adjacent to her already abandoned bed.

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These quiet moments

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In these the quiet mornings,

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When the only preoccupation is the allowance of a soak -

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Of a steeped and salient sanctity beneath the approach of Apollo's stagecoach.

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These moments

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Are the stuff of which poets drink -

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They are the respite of lovers from the bottomlessness

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Of a newly discovered unity -

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They are the moment's peace for warriors,

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The war-horn before the storm 

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And they are a manifestation of the first and last breaths

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Of the dying 

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Or the newborn.

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Author's Note

P.S.

The tea is a metaphor for the afterlife, and the poem itself is supposed to be an allegory for reincarnation.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_2vh9jjrPFI

Reviews

[keith]

an excellent write full of word visuals
I especially like the line …
when the breath in her lungs are but a reflection of the breeze
between the emptied, brambled threshold of the wind caught in leafless trees"
such powerful imagery that carries the message into a new point of view
thanks

[Ookpik]

Glad you enjoyed it, and thank you also.

- Ook