listen

Tea flowers, tea colored, on good linen.

Back yard bench, view of the garden.

Here’s where I sit and watch for the next thing,

changing weather or ripening fruit,

phone call or some old piece of myself,

one I had forgotten, ready now

to tell her story. Invite her to sit.

Pour her some tea. In this heat there’s

no rush. Let’s find out what gifts

my past is bringing me today.

Garlic oil inside the ear,

only a drop so it doesn’t clog.

Press gently into the hollow

behind the ear, and the fluid will drain.

I don’t want to hear that we’re being lied to.

I don’t want to hear the scorn

of the medic who doesn’t want to hear

about the kind of healing that she’s not trained in.

I would prefer to hear the shared laughter

of friends, in a garden filled with

tea and flowers and birdsong and delight

in one another’s gifts. I would like it, please,

if I could hear leaders speak words of truth.

An ear infection is an ugly thing,

but dealing with it is not beyond my power.

It will stop hurting if I listen to it,

patiently, and kindly.