Mo(u)rning in a coffee shop
Saturday morning
I sit amidst the wisdom and dreams
of many
sipping coffee in The Tattered Cover
a small girl runs and laughs
oblivious to those around her
the world is safe
she can be free
she can speak and vocalize
she can run and dance
comfortable in her self
I grin with delight
seeing this spectacle of beauty
striped black and white pants
large yellow crocs
stuffed animal grasped firmly like a football
dancing in her bright pink coat
parents no where to be seen
witnessing her
I laugh even as
I begin to mourn
oh to be comfortable in our skin as this child
she has not yet learned to hide from the world
she has not yet learned how unsafe it can be
oh to be like a child again
with the innocence and purity of youth
yet
wise with age and journey
living peacefully with tensions
because
though the world is not safe
somehow I am
to gain a freedom to be ourselves
in a world where hurt
regularly defeats love
freedom
a freedom lost through life’s long years
a freedom perhaps we can reclaim
oh to be a child
like the one running before my eyes
to smile and laugh
comfortable in our own skin
unbroken by a broken world
unsurprised I hear her name called
it is Emma
now, another girl appears
and my mourning doubles
the older sister
sitting with a book
stands now to call below
to Emma
who has traversed the stairs
a harsh reply shoots up,
echoing in the rafters above
as mom silences this child
“stop being disrespectful”
“sit, be quiet and read”
unnamed beauty
she obediently sits back down with her book
quiet, meek, silent
I remain in stillness
I listen and observe
I hear Emma’s voice below
sadly her unnamed sister’s voice is never heard
I mourn the loss of childhood’s best
I mourn the loss of playful innocence
oblivious to the critiquing world around
I mourn the lost voice of the older sister
already learning by 5 or 6
be silent
while her sister runs free
unexpected mourning
mo(u)rning in a coffee shop
oh to be a child
to gain the wisdom we can through years
yet not to lose our first embrace of the world
delight and sorrow
feelings and words mingling
with the aroma of my coffee
and quiet mo(u)rning meditations