Cradled (22)

One morning
I cry
for no reason.
I am standing by the kitchen sink
when it begins.
I see myself
in the mirror
as I turn away
my cup of tea
with the painted red bird
in my hands
my face scrunching up
as the tears come.

I walk outside
sit in my patio
prop my feet up
on the chair before me
and I reach
to see why
I am crying.
I find fear
loneliness
grief
gratitude
all swirling
melting into each other
like honey
in my tea.

I breathe
and the tears
roll down my cheeks
in the quiet morning.
I hold the warm cup
in both hands
and watch
my knees
while I cry.
I used to feel alone
but now as I sit
I feel held
cushioned
like my hands
cradle my cup.

[Photograph © Renate Dean, used with permission]