I am standing at the kitchen counter, proving my humanity.
You would think it would be enough: standing here after taking my daughter to college early this morning, standing here about to make a healthy supper that will keep my girls and me well, even as the coronavirus has made its appearance in our county.
But WordPress wants more. Math, as the day is waning.
The onion is waiting near the dark red beans. Garlic is in the fridge. Both are antibacterial and antiviral. What more reason does a woman need to put them in her chili? Tastiness is a plus.
All afternoon I was too tired to write, to even think. So I spent a few comforting hours in the barely-blue room, soaking up the sun through these 1930s Tudor windows. Sometimes, when I opened my eyes, I could see the river glimmering in the distance.
Eleven years ago, I was doing what I called “writing on the edge of a napkin.” I could not seem to find the sanctuary I needed to think straight and write strong. That spurred a year-long sojourn to my back yard. All I did was sit outside for the time it took to drink a cup of tea. Every day. For a whole year. The experience eventually turned itself into a book.
These days I am not writing books so much as I am managing sites like Tweetspeak and Poetic Earth Month. It’s a lot to handle.
Oh, and every week I put the finishing touches on the Every Day Poems that go out to your inboxes if you are a subscriber. (Rick suggests most of the possible poems, I choose which to say “yes” to, he inputs the approved ones at MailChimp, then I search for the most wonderful photo I can find, and I finish the prepping. It’s a team effort.)
This morning at the coffee shop, and then again while I found respite in the sun throughout the afternoon, visions of France were dancing in my head. This is my eldest daughter’s doing. She found a French castle that captured her heart. And she wants to take her sister and I there, to while away the hours in the sun of the countryside, with baguettes to begin each day.
Besides the cathedrals, what my daughter remembers most about France (she was there once when she was little) are the baguettes and the jams. In one charming street shop, I bought a strawberry rose jam that was so heavenly I ended up buying a second one to bring home. That was the “could anything go more wrong?” flight that not only began by being canceled but also, once I finally got to security, became the flight where I’d somehow managed to put all the worst choices in my carry-on bag, so I had to forfeit the jam. (And scissors! What was I thinking?!) My daughter was completely bereft over the losses.
We all have them, of course. Losses. Some are unfathomably large, some small. In the midst of them, sometimes it helps to have a kind of sanctuary we can count on.
At Starbucks this morning, I ordered a Chai Latte. It tasted, I decided, just as pink as the dyed hair of one creative co-ed who was sitting nearby: a kind of muted red-hot cinnamon, or maybe candy cane mixed with steaming whiteness. Quite sweet, so I finished only half. It was not really the sanctuary I was looking for. But the sun was warm, and I’d managed to get my secluded spot by the window in the red-orange leather chair. So I was happy, nonetheless.
This week in Every Day Poems, we shared The Sanctuary. While it’s worth reading the whole poem, there are parts that stand out to me. And, along with the beautiful images in the poem, they become their own kind of sanctuary…
We sit forgetting.
Glimmering, the white owl flies
In the dark shade
If ever life was harsh
Here we forget
in the shadows of this secret place
Sometimes I tell people that this is our Every Day Poems motto: “We promise not to ruin your day.” It’s true. But the deeper truth is we seek to send along possible sanctuaries—poems where you can stand (or sit) without having to prove yourself to anything or anyone. Poems that hand you visions to sustain you, even if the words sometimes contain losses.
There are so many things standing in the way of my girls and me going to France again anytime soon, let alone to a castle in the countryside that promises to give you good cups of coffee. But, for my daughters, the vision is a sanctuary—an imagined place where we can be happy and carefree. For that, even if France never happens, I’m going along.
Photos and post by L.L. Barkat.
Poetry Prompt
Think of your poem as a room someone might enter looking for sanctuary. Craft your poem to provide that, by choosing images that evoke both wonder and a sense of safety and peace at the same time—even if danger lurks.
- Poetry Prompt: In the Wild Secret Place - January 6, 2025
- Journeys: What We Hold in Common - November 4, 2024
- Poetry Prompt: My Poem is an Oasis - August 26, 2024
jack griner says
It’s hard coming up with a subject for a poem every day.
Sandra Heska King says
I agree, especially since they usually follow a monthly theme. I would think picking the themes is also a bit time-consuming. But fun. On the other hand, a lot of poems would get read that way. 🙂
Katie says
L.L.,
I love chai lattes.
Also, like your – I’m guessing homemade felt bee tea sleeve – ?
Enjoyed this post and prompt.
You’ve got me thinking, stay tuned;)
Katie
Bethany R. says
Isn’t it a cute sleeve, Katie? 😉
I enjoyed this Sanctuary post too. I’m all about comfort—imagined and realized. Realized through imagining even. 🙂
L.L. Barkat says
Katie, do you have a special way you make your chai lattes?
The coffee sleeve is my eldest daughter’s creation. She’s sold a few at craft shows and privately. I’m still deciding which design to make my own. (There’s a really cute pumpkin one I might take to the shop with me next time.)
Glad to get you thinking. Now, I am waiting to hear what you’ve got up your own, um, sleeve! 🙂
**
Bethany, I like that idea “realized through imagining.” There’s power in the dream.
Megan Willome says
“If ever life was harsh
Here we forget”
This is why I try to go to Colorado every year. (Closer than France.) I need ponderosa pines and high altitude to forget. Also aspens.
My favorite part of this poem is the black panther, hidden in the dark shadows. It’s a good reminder. Best make peace with the fella.
L.L. Barkat says
Colorado sounds peaceful and healing. I’m always for closer-than, since I’m not a big traveler and am a fan of taking in beauty wherever one happens to be. But, oh, that strawberry rose jam. 😉
I hadn’t thought too hard about the black panther in this poem. There’s always that side of things, stealing through. I’m rooting for the survival of the white owl. 🙂 (And I do, though, like the idea of making peace with what prowls in shadow.)
Will Willingham says
My favorite things:
Your humanity. (I have found, by the way, that not all of those demands to “prove it” actually have the follow-through, and if you decline to enter the result of the equation, it may let you pass by anyway. That means something to me, on some weird level.)
The pink taste of a drink. (You made it further down the cup than I might have.)
The red-orange leather chair in the sun.
And of course, a castle somewhere in France. Which could as well be a red-orange leather chair in the sun, if a person closes their eyes long enough.
Sandra Heska King says
“We all have them, of course. Losses. Some are unfathomably large, some small. In the midst of them, sometimes it helps to have a kind of sanctuary we can count on.”
Sometimes those small losses add up. I’m so glad to have a lake (or retention pond that acts like a lake) right outside my door. That and what I call the “swamp” that’s actually marsh, the northern part of the ‘glades, that’s just around the bend, though our walking place in the swamp is up the road apiece, or a-peace.
I’ve been feeling particularly sluggish and slow lately, and sometimes I have to drag myself out there, but every time I can raise my camera towards a new critter or peace of beauty, I shed some piece of weight. I think the Florida panthers live on the west side, and they aren’t black, but I’m still waiting to see a bobcat. That coud carry me for days.
Also, I love chai lattes. I think I’ll make one right now and top it with some whipped cream.
L.L. Barkat says
Beauty can certainly bring sanctuary. And, as Will noted above, it can be found in the simplest of places (we needn’t all go to France to find it! 😉 )
What’s your chai latte recipe?
Sandra Heska King says
Recipe? How about a Twining’s teabag? Half and half and a little sugar. And whipped cream, of course. I think Prasanta shared a recipe once. I should go find that. Or just ask her. 🙂
L.L. Barkat says
🙂
I’m partial to the whipped cream part. 🙂
Yes! Go find Prasanta. Would love to hear from her on this.
Donna Falcone says
The thought of France dancing
Makes me smile.
L.L. Barkat says
Yes.
Yes, yes. yes. 🙂
Donna Falcone says
🙃
Prasanta says
Did someone say chai latte? I’m always ready for a tea party.
Here’s my homemade recipe: Add 1-2 tsp of loose black tea leaves in a pot, with enough water for your mug, and bring to a boil. Toss in a tiny bit of crushed cardamom or sliced ginger. Add a little bit of almond milk (or milk of choice), and boil a few minutes, watching carefully so it does not boil over. Strain into your favorite mug or teacup, and stir in sugar or honey to taste.
The final step? Curling up in a comfy chair and reading poetry.
Bethany R. says
Sounds cozy! Thanks for sharing your recipe, Prasanta. 🙂
lynn__ says
a safe sanctuary
close restaurants
and coffee shops
take away my chai
latte and stuffed crab
hang the last TP rolls
from nearest tree and
cancel church services
even if infected with
coronavirus at home
(my childhood home
was on corona street)
and quarantined i will
yet have sanctuary
for my heart to rest
within my soul’s home
found in Yahweh God
whose name is breath
i breathe His presence
inhale/exhale holiness
prayers whispered and
translated by the Spirit
Katie says
lynn,
Love this, thank you for sharing
Favorite line: “. . . I will yet have sanctuary for my heart to rest.”
Gratefully,
Katie
lynn__ says
Thanks, Katie!