Cup
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Today, a workshop for the poet.
Write about a cup.
Standing empty,
Purpose unfulfilled.
Imagination startled as
I smash the cup inside my head.
A million shards of broken pottery
Lying on the floor.
Broken poems and promises
Lying on the floor.
Shards thrown out of context
As are we.
Broken souls
From out a shattered God.
Each shard, a refugee.
You and me.
Metaphors attached to all
The brokenness we own.
Cups of purpose
Seeking our fulfillment.
Joined to make a whole
Of all we hold;
Become a cup
Our truth to then unfold.
What began as empty, filled
With our life’s portion,
Sharing, sipping, spilling
All along the way.
Losing contents
We may label dear
Until the final tipping
Of a cup left upside down.
What words escape our pens
That are not truth.
Whose content change
The soul from which we bleed
Whether subject cup or love,
Or other siphoned dalliance,
At our finish will complete
A lifetime’s cupping need.
Copyright © Vernon Witmer | Year Posted 2021
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