Poetry

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Switch Cups

“Take this cup of bitter.”
demanded the woman.
But she said “No!”
The woman slapped her
and shoved the cup to her swollen lips.
“No.” she said.
The woman kicked her and hit her
But she said “no.”
“You are worthless.” said the
woman without using words.
So she grew tired until
she didn’t care anymore.
She drank from the cup
of bitter.

The cup became hers
and she drew it to her heart.
She said “I will drink no other cup!”
Very loudly to nobody around.

He said “Take My forgiveness cup.”
She said “No.” as she
pulled her cup to her heart.
So he sat beside her with His cup.
He said “Can I drink from your cup?”
“Sure enough.” she said as
she gave Him her bottomless,
prepaid, handed-down-the-generations cup.

A crowd came in and asked
“Who drank from that cup?”
She said “I did.”
So they laughed and mocked her.
But then He lifted his cup and toasted her
“For you.” he said as he drank it.
So they mocked him now saying
“You’d forgive her?”
chanting wickedly and ferociously.
But He was quiet, not a head-down,
shameful quiet, but a trusting quiet
as he sat even closer to her.
So they pressed in on him,
but he didn’t give in;
wasn’t bothered a bit.

They could tell.
They could see the change
in her heart before she could.
It was the loosening of her grip
of the bitter cup
and it was the look of curiosity
towards the forgiveness cup.
They watched her
contemplating His cup.
So they sang a pathetic tune;
A mocking “Happy Birthday” tune.
But it was too late.
She reached out and took the cup
and drank it up.
Their voices turned to mist
and she could see the chains
of their imprisonment
and she began to
feel sorry for them.

H. Stone © 2005

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