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Posts tagged ‘Ignorance’

Raw Honey

Raw Honey 

©Jo Hewitt The Teal Mango 2017
                                    

It has been a year.                                 

Shall we again meet?

Shall we gather

In your city

Or would you rather

Mine?

Choose.

Either is fine.

Shall I bring chocolate

And pastry sweet?

Truffles perhaps,

Rosemary, Cayenne, or Lime?

Name the date.

Name the time.

Shall we talk of then or now?

Shall we talk, compare each different path?

Shall we give voice

To the aftermath

Of the why and how

Of each one’s choice,

Of our each different path?

Do you want coffee, tea, espresso?

“Oh, the tea” you might say.

“I guess so.”

For me,

I might choose the coffee.

It is long since my life,

My surroundings,

Afforded me the civility

Of the fragrance of tea.

 

Please, say again

Where shall we meet,

We three

To savor old times

With coffee or tea.

Shall it be your condo?

Or shall it be your

Backyard and pond

Beyond

Your screened porch?

Shall you, or shall I pour?

How much sugar does it take

To sweeten your tea?

One lump,

Two, three,

Four?

How many more?

You stop at three?

Lumps in life come differently.

I will decline the sweetener,

Real or artificial

As may be your habit

or your ritual.

I now drink mine

Bitter, a bit.

As we sip,

As we sit,

Shall my thoughts lead my mind

To the calm of the pond

Or beyond

And leave my ears behind

With your shallow prate?

I have no patience of late.

Nor time.

I do not understand

The reason or rhyme

Of your need

for shallow discourse.

Of course,

If I offer topics deep,

Me, again, will you berate

And claim I condescend?

Why?

Will I again

Need to defend

To you

My view,

My stance

On the current social brew

And circumstance of

Injustice,

Ignorance,

Bigotry and hate?

Perhaps you cannot fathom it

From your city,

Or this pond.

Yet,

Shall I regret,

Shall I reflect

My lack of circumspect

In what words I proffer?

Perchance,

If I were to offer

You honey raw,

A chance for healing,

(In sugar coating

There is none,

None at all)

Perchance,

In my defense,

If I were to coat your cup

And stir with your delusion,

And seclusion,

A picket from your

White middle class fence,

Would you drink it up?

Would you drink it all?

Could you stomach it raw?

Or would you choke

In the coat

Of feeling?

Swallowing the rawness

Is the healing.

 

It has been a year.

Shall we again meet,

We three?

I think not.

I have not time to savor tea.

Time is short.

Barely time for coffee.

We stand at the shore,

The brim,

Of the rim

Of a blackened sea.

The waves of the old ways,

Cresting, crashing

Have come,

To swallow us,

Bitterly.

 

 

Portrait of Miss Sinclair by William Orpen

Portrait of Miss Sinclair by William Orpen

 

 

 

 

 

 

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