Tanisha Reed Poet Free verse

Whispers Between the Dishes

The world begins here,
at this worn wooden table,
its edges softened by years of hands
that set, cleared, and held.

 

Morning sunlight spills across plates,
coffee steam curling like old stories
we tell each other
between bites of bread and laughter.

 

Here, my mother folds love into dough,
my father seasons patience into stew,
grandmother hums the recipes of our past,
and unseen, ancestors linger in the scent of cumin and cardamom,
their whispers threading through the clatter of spoons.

 

Arguments dissolve in the hum of conversation,
joy rises with the scent of fresh coriander,
and tears, too, are gathered
between the bowls and shared silence.

 

This table teaches me:
life is breaking bread together,
listening when words fail,
holding space for each other,
and remembering 
even in ordinary moments,
we are never alone.

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