' Reading The Tea-Leaves Of My Father (Rev.) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Sometimes there be a silent chaos
following the shock and grief of loss.
May I offer you a cup
of Young's Green Tea,
isn't that what old folks drink these day's;
ahhh, but not in your cup, I know; ,
how 'bout an eight ounce bottle of Classic Coke?
The kind from 1886, til' plastic ruled;
yes, that swiveled green tinted bottle,
and a cap with a cork for freshness;
that was my Father's cup o' tea.

The unthinkables tend to offer -
options... opportunity
to appreciate the past
and the memories we warm
our grieving hearts with,
or at least be closed, opaque
to the shock angst and rue
that the present and future holds,
and instead ensconce in the quelling fields,
of Life, laughter and tea leaves.

For Tomorrows another day;
that's what my Father always said
whenever silence seemed to hold
its breath forever...
from life's shocking ends
that most of us fear with age,
when day and night both look the same
from the trance induced shadows
of memories hazed by moments lost
and faces without names;
where cognizance takes a knee
from matters of the Mind;

My Father feared this most
whenever he'd see someone -
bearing the heavy cross
of the mortally ossified,
staring paralyticly
at the nothingness before them.
No way to live he'd say....
no dignity to this!
So, God granted his wish.
after all My Father
was a very good man,
walked each day with God and thanks,
though he never drank a drop of tea.

__________FjR___________


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Frank James Ryan Jr. /FjR