Standing on the Rim of a Mug Filled with Coffee

the bird outside my bedroom window
doesn’t sing, or whistle. it only chirps:
chirp. chirp. chirp. over and over.
the words at the rim of my coffee mug
read: / / each day a new journey begins.
messages are sent and received.
earlier, i lay in bed, staring up at the fan
bolted to the ceiling, thinking about how
it will never leave its place, except
perhaps by fire. . or maybe someday re-
placement. i will never be like that, not
ever. a fixture. an accessory. held
in place, unmoving . . . as we speak, one
friend prepares to relocate herself all the
way across this world, for love.
(or, at least, for hope of it.) another pre-
pares to move a thousand miles further
from her own. and maybe they
both have doubts; . but both of them are
moving, brave: singing the kind of songs
this bird outside will never know.


3 thoughts on “Standing on the Rim of a Mug Filled with Coffee

  1. It is hard to “risk”; the use of the inanimate to convey the message of stagnation is wonderful. The chirping bird, content to the repetitious, very thoughtful and a little unsettling. Kudos!

    • You are so amazing! You caught everything I was hoping to convey by this piece! Yes, risk is terrifying. But the conscious experience of a life fully lived hinges upon it without apology. Thank you for your insightful comment, Holly! 🙂

  2. This, poem, is really something, it is, what assist in seeing how 1 View Points can only be that of what it is and that other other Presumptions will always be able to change be able to keep moving forward and be able to take the next step, unknowing what is really going to happen but willing to do what it is that can bring then joy. Thank you.

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