Mourning in a coffee shop

Mo(u)rning in a coffee shop

Saturday morning

I sit amidst the wisdom and dreams

of many

sipping coffee in The Tattered Cover

a small girl runs and laughs

oblivious to those around her

the world is safe

she can be free

she can speak and vocalize

she can run and dance

comfortable in her self

I grin with delight

seeing this spectacle of beauty

striped black and white pants

large yellow crocs

stuffed animal grasped firmly like a football

dancing in her bright pink coat

parents no where to be seen

witnessing her

I laugh even as

I begin to mourn

oh to be comfortable in our skin as this child

she has not yet learned to hide from the world

she has not yet learned how unsafe it can be

oh to be like a child again

with the innocence and purity of youth

yet

wise with age and journey

living peacefully with tensions

because

though the world is not safe

somehow I am

to gain a freedom to be ourselves

in a world where hurt

regularly defeats love

freedom

a freedom lost through life’s long years

a freedom perhaps we can reclaim

oh to be a child

like the one running before my eyes

to smile and laugh

comfortable in our own skin

unbroken by a broken world

unsurprised I hear her name called

it is Emma

now, another girl appears

and my mourning doubles

the older sister

sitting with a book

stands now to call below

to Emma

who has traversed the stairs

a harsh reply shoots up,

echoing in the rafters above

as mom silences this child

“stop being disrespectful”

“sit, be quiet and read”

unnamed beauty

she obediently sits back down with her book

quiet, meek, silent

I remain in stillness

I listen and observe

I hear Emma’s voice below

sadly her unnamed sister’s voice is never heard

I mourn the loss of childhood’s best

I mourn the loss of playful innocence

oblivious to the critiquing world around

I mourn the lost voice of the older sister

already learning by 5 or 6

be silent

while her sister runs free

unexpected mourning

mo(u)rning in a coffee shop

oh to be a child

to gain the wisdom we can through years

yet not to lose our first embrace of the world

delight and sorrow

feelings and words mingling

with the aroma of my coffee

and quiet mo(u)rning meditations