A poem written by Jeremy Berquist
Know that I took a measure from the sea.
One tiny cup. Who else but me
could blame the water's boiling point--
it's subtle power to anoint
the sick--that burned my lips so red?
For being taken, whose heart bled
that lost not one small drop of taste
in getting swayed? Not the sea's.
Not mine, as should have. If you please,
the science of loss is not exact,
and nature's cruel, a proven fact.
I'd have a second measure, though
the taking would not better show
to me who did, that which lost.
A second cup's not twice the cost,
and cannot doubly lay my soul to waste.
© 2016 Mental Health Association of Northwestern PA