Food is a metaphor for ease; for lack of reserve
that comes only
when you have broken bread together,
grey skies with a light drizzle
as little ones gather around the table.
Pour in gold filled promises from the windowsill
that breath knows not hesitation,
we offer a platter full to elders before
serving the same to ourselves.
I could never forget the taste of cardamom chai,
the chorus of heartbeats
and intimate conversations held in silence;
my lips turn a shade deeper
as I gaze inside winter’s poem, majestic in hue
it’s the darkest parts of us which
forsake the storm within.
“Garma garam parathay,” the mere suggestion
of flat, unleavened bread stuffed
with potatoes, sometimes cauliflower
or radish transports me to a different time,
every once in a while
we are confronted with who we used to be
and it isn’t always pleasing but
be with someone who values you and it can
I don’t think there is anything that can replace
that comes with semolina pudding
and soft fried dough,
count to three and listen
to the echoes— confessions thrumming with
anguish into the room;
the human heart is battered and bruised
and oh so beautiful.
The light banter acts as cresting waves
as we delve into Mutton Nihari,
orange juice or lassi,
why is it that having someone measure us
is harder than letting them go—
societal pressures that plague from generation
and yet, youth leaking out unguarded
seems to be the norm,
sort of like peanut butter,
nutella and jam
that span out across the canvass and envelop the sky—
may we never forget what year it was and why.
Photo credits: Brown and Gray Clay Serving Pots, Pexels.
Sarah hosts at dVerse and invites us to write a poem about food- about preparing
food or eating food; about family meals or posh restaurants; about the emotional
heft of a particular dish, the meaning that it brings to the table. Come join us! 💝
Posted for Tuesday Poetics – Food @dVerse Poets Pub