Storm In A Teacup 1

I am a teacup

small, porcelain-thin —

delicate by design,

not by choice.

Inside me brews a storm:

not rain on windows,

but thunder that rattles bone,

lightning that forks behind the eyes,

waves that crash on nerves like jagged shorelines.

To others, I am calm —

a gentle curve on a shelf,

a quiet sip in the corner of a room.

But they do not hear the roar

trapped within my ceramic frame.

Every sound a siren,

every touch a tremor,

every unspoken rule

another wind I cannot chart.

I hold galaxies of sensation

in a vessel made for one spoonful of calm.

And still I do not spill.

But sometimes,

the tea boils over.

And they call it meltdown,

when it was only the storm

breaking free

from the silence they mistook

for peace.

Polymer clay and repurposed teacup.

Approximately 9cmx6.5cm

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