Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen

Alone

In Food, Love, Poetry on November 4, 2016 at 5:06 pm

 

eating-alone

 

I hear the soft clanging of a spoon in a pan

I am sure I do

Though she is not there

I smell the soft scent of sesame oil floating out from the kitchen’s warmth

I am sure I do

Though she is not there

I can hear the gentle soft lilting of her song

I am sure I do

I can taste the special noodle coming to me heaped carefully in my special bowl

I am sure I can

I am sure I can taste the dark slippery noodles so carefully cooked & prepared as they fill my grateful waiting mouth

But she is not there

She is not here

She is not carrying those special noodles to me as I sit expectantly on my throne

She is not here and the kitchen is quiet and clean and I am alone and she is not here

This achingly acquiescent cleanliness she last touched I dare not change

This barren emptiness I dare not disturb

This troubling quietness I know not how to sound again

Her absence makes a mockery of gathering any buds and nuts no matter I have traveled in the realms of gold and kissed a sweet rose now all is gone and I am alone

  – Michael Welch

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