Kitchen in my religion

Hands deep in the communal water
Love, the kitchen cupboards, dishes
Piled up again to live out my religion

My feet and my heart, compassion
How comforting the steaming kettle
Whistling my life pressures away

Naked before all of my confessions
I now wipe the table clear of dirt
Breathe hymns into the soft season.

Copyright ยฉ Nomzi Kumalo, 2014.

14 Comments

    1. Hello hello Tish ๐Ÿ™‚ Getting into the swing of things into the new season. You too? Thank you for your generous, humbling and encouraging words. Have a fabulous weekend. ๐Ÿ™‚

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      1. And a lovely weekend to you too, Nomzi. Missed having you around, so am glad you’re back. Here in UK we are not sure what season we are in. Seem to have been plunged from high summer into late autumn all in a few days. Summer is not supposed to leave to early! Take care.

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  1. Tweet tweet Celestine, I missed you too ๐Ÿ™‚ It is good to see that you are still here. Thank you for your enthusiastic support. I grew in the sunshine, I hope you did too. ๐Ÿ™‚

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  2. Nomzi, I missed you. ๐Ÿ™‚ Good to have you back. That poem is beautiful. Love how you blended religion with the mundane task of cleaning. Of course a deeper meaning. ๐Ÿ™‚

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