Bubbling black erupts
into bouncing motion.
I thought I was almost through it but I am not.
Steam evaporates another
soul scar no one else can see.
The coffee grounds settle. It’s ready.
Pouring into loneliness
will never fill this void, so I add cream.
Black liquid turns muddy brown.
Icy fingers of depression wrap around the cup.
My lips rest on the brim.
So many things I had to change when you left.
Why did this happen?
I am helpless and sometimes not fit for this world.
I miss you that much.
The cup sits on frozen ground,
such a cold place for your ashes.
I call out your name. Can you hear me?
Morning frost and boiling pot intertwine.
Your life and death is part of me
guiding my muddy brown destiny.
Fire crackles. Coffee boils down into sludge
thick with grief, thick with love.
Love pure like cream forming cinnamon swirls.
Your memory beckons me to
expand my love for you onto others.
Creating beauty out of darkness, sunrise dries tears.
I lift my cup towards the heavens and
offer the last swig of camp coffee.
Here’s to you my love, here is to you.
