Morning Coffee, Seasoned With Tears

“Morning Coffee, Seasoned With Tears”

She kneeled, praying, her fingers caressing the beads, 

Despair wrestled amongst hope’s delicate seeds.

To live through grief was her only choice,

“Draw close to me”, said God’s voice. 

“Hail Mary, full of grace”,

And tears rolled down her sorrowful face. 

“Save my marriage, God, it’s sacred and holy.”

She begged, head bowed, while “they” met for morning coffee.

What did those stolen moments taste like, bitter or sweet?

Coffee sipped, laced with lies and deceit.

Her knees grew weary as she finished her prayer, 

She drank in the liturgy, gasping for air. 

Here is my body, broken for you.

“Lord, heal my heart, it’s broken, too.”

Here is my blood, poured out for you.

“Lord, just tell me, what more can I do?”

Her morning coffee, seasoned with tears,

An aftertaste of despair mixed with silent fears.

Unable to speak, denied any expression,

She wandered alone through her depression.  

“It’s over. God didn’t hear your prayers”.

God, were you listening to theirs?

Thanks for reading,

Pav