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The Empty Cup

Empty, hollow, I stare into my cup. Once your wine greeted me with warmth and strength. You filled my mind, and took my care. The gentle…

Charlie Dorsett (they/she)

Nov 17, 2015

Empty, hollow, I stare into my cup. Once your wine greeted me with warmth and strength. You filled my mind, and took my care. The gentle curve of your inner wall invites me to lay down, to sleep in your embracing arms, but this void is not my home. It is no place to lay my head.

Empty, hallow, I gaze into my cup. Now, you are free from holding, nothing fills you. Every drop licked clean by a tongue so parched. Your side fold in, but they do not fall. You found strength in your fragile form. The memory of all you once held holds you together.

Hallowed, holy, I look into my cup. You are a sacrament of letting go and letting be. The wine fills you and you leave it as it is. It does not weigh you down. It is with you, and you are with it. The wine is drunk. You send it away. It was yours to hold and not to have.

Holy, holy, I see into my cup. You are patient, never wondering from where or when the wine will come. It is here. It is gone. You are the same, unchanged.