Anna Forsyth

Chai



I sip slowly on warm chai.
Feel an inner glow.
The day before, my blood had gone cold.
Diagnosis?
Spiritual anemia.
My soul leeched of its iron.
But between then and now,
I have remembered.
I have chosen chai.
I drink deep of the antidote.
Warm life
seeps through the protective fabric
around my heart muscle,
as I sit entwined in a lover's knot.
Feel the unbroken protection of arms.
I can see the reaper's shadow
out of the corner of my eye,
but it brings no terror.
Because I know that valleys have ends.
And I cannot forget
the shepherd's crook.




Anna Forsythis a freelance writer and editor, specialising in education. She has a keen interest in consuming poetry and producing it.




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