the sweetest tea

A year ago I promised myself
I would move slowly
only with purpose
out of a desire for self-preservation,
a need for economy of emotion
and to focus on the babies
in my nest.
In that year, time has slowed
wounds have healed,
or begun to,
memories have faded
hurts have slowly fallen away
as I open my hands
and let go.
What do I desire now?
Now that the long, cold
winter is ending?
I desire to sip from
the sweet cup of tea
that has been steeping
for so long,
to be still long enough 
to witness the precise moment
the green stem of the planted bulb
breaks through.
To be quiet enough
to hear all the ways
the world whispers
I love you.


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