4 Ceramic Mugs

I thought creating my life meant

what things I owned

to surround myself with.

When at 17

I moved out on my own

(home),

supporting myself with a $2.35 an hour job

at a commercial laundry,

I nailed a wooden crate to the wall

of my $120 a month including utilities studio cottage

as a shelf, a cupboard.

In the crate-shelf on the wall

I proudly displayed

4 ceramic mugs

I’d bought for $0.25 each.

Earth colored with copper green oxide stripe on 2,

and dark brown stripe ringing the lip of the other 2.

I would lay on my mattress on the floor

and gaze at those 4 mugs,

savoring feelings about the life I was creating for myself with these mugs.

These mugs I thought of as the foundation,

the first seeds,

of the life I was creating.

Solid.

Earth-based.

The cups would be with me all my life,

I imagined.

I assumed.

Like hope chest treasures

my mother encouraged me to store in the cedar chest,

and someday wedding gifts. But

I wasn’t getting married, except to my own life.

The ceremonial feeling of owning those mugs

on display in my wood-crate shelf

felt powerful.

Moving out on my own.

Free at last.

Little did I know

possessions come and go.

They have no power to

be

my life.

My life I create is the me,

the who I am,

that I hone through life experiences,

with mentors,

friends,

even enemies.

The inner life I polish

like a jewel.

That is me.

About this poem

This poem is part of my Solstice solar year poem cycle, where I write a poem a day from June 22, 2019 to June 21, 2020. The poem a day may get posted on a different day than it was written, or several poems might get posted on the same day. And if I choose to submit a poem to a literary journal, I delete it from this blog before doing so. That's my project. I hope it touches your soul and makes you think. And maybe inspires you to write more poems of your own.