The Coffee I Brew Ritualistically

By Rosa Juju Abraham

Coffee delights me.

The first coffee that break open my day

I brew ritualistically . . .

As the water boils, I cool . . .

Pouring the scalding liquid

Into the coffee brown powder,

I inhale the bitter sweet aroma

That arises,

A dash of milk and a pinch of sugar is all it needs,

And my concoction is done . . .

A blow, a sip, a blow, a sip

And soon I am undone . . .

I split,

And my day unravels . . .

Women,

Who have not seen much beyond their kitchen sinks,

I am not one of you

I have multiple identities,

I hold,

A passport that has traversed many a country

I harbour

Accounts in many a bank

Shuffle through cards that deposit and withdraw

I mirror in me a perfect, chic self

A woman who holds herself up . . .

I end the day with a nightcap.

Sleep is the gathering together

Of my many selves

Until the next day

I wake up to brew coffee ritualistically . . .

Coffee is my only delight.

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By Rosa Juju Abraham