My Cup

White-skinned hands grasp a glass of blue water
Early morning, I awaken to a shadowscape and taste my breath,
Which is soon obscured by the fragrance of fear between my teeth.
Dread occupies the small gaps in the surface of my heart.
 
Carefully, I grope in the dark to find my cup.
This cup dwells within.
I grasp it tenderly
As it begins to fill.
Soon, in the dark, in my bed, between the sheets
It overflows.
 
My cup runneth over.
 
Then, I remember:
This fear, this longing, these tears running over –
These too are a gift of love.
Share on facebook
Facebook
Share on twitter
Twitter
Share on email
Email

Ritualwell content is available for free thanks to the generous support of readers like you! Please help us continue to offer meaningful content with a donation today. 

Related Rituals

Shop Ritualwell - Discover unique Judaica products

The Reconstructionist Network

Get the latest from Ritualwell

Subscribe for the latest rituals, online learning opportunities, and unique Judaica finds from our store.