Friday, June 19, 2015




Sharing a cup,

To ease the tension before a hard day at work.

It marks the last day of our friendship,

Spilling coffee all over the floor,

I made such a mess.

But I would never take back that tender morning.

It marks beauty in brokenness.


Throwing a cup,

My laptop covered,

Shattered tea against the walls,

It marks the end of a season,

One that bore a variety of fruits,

Some bitter,

Some sweet as can be.


Meeting up,

Engaging in conversation,

Time flying,

It marks friendship.


The legalistic approach,

Over bearing and judgemental,

The absence of grace.

It marks the distortion of truth.


Sleep walking,

Dragging feet,

Feeling the warmth in my tired hands,

It represents peace.



<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© June 2015

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