Eccentric Tea Woman

  Once upon a time . . . .  I was born into a world filled with myths and creatures too fantastic to describe. I longed to have tea with Hecate and fly with massive raven's wings. I learned the word WITCH through books and stories whispered in the winds. And I didn't want to believe any of it. People who met me thought me to be too much for the world and themselves, so they stripped me of myself. For years, I listened to everyone else tell me just who I was and I believed them. They told me I was a plaything, a passing fancy, a being to control. Those who had power tried to break and mold me into their idea of submission. Every time I showed myself, even a hint of it, it was met with curse words and more rules. I wept. I hated. I feared. One day, while sitting in a cluttered room, I heard something whisper to me - who are you? I closed my eyes as I smoked my cigarette and the words came again - who are you? I opened my eyes and answered back - I don't know but I'm wil

(photo by Kimberly B. Richardson)   It had been three months since I last saw her. My friend, the one who seemingly understood my nature. When I hugged her, it felt as though she'd never left. She welcomed me into her warehouse apartment, decorated in a style that mingled quiet modern with fantastic bohemian. Flashes of colour flew around the brick walls while soft neutrals lingered in the corners, not wishing to be acknowledged. We sat down to a pot of green tea she had picked up in Paris, plus a plate of pistachio macarons. When I looked into her eyes as she talked about her latest adventure, I felt pure and good-natured envy. I wanted to pack up a tattered suitcase and set off for the world like she had done. I wanted to visit the bookstores that were older than time, drink tea in cafes, and take photos of cultures that lingered on the dreamlike. Instead, I sipped my tea like a good little suppressed man and listened. And listened. And listened. She spoke of how she spent a full

  (photo art by J.W. Bullard) Across the wide mouth of water Sat my beloved ready for me. My eyes focused on his out-of-focus face And knew that it was over. The water rippled a thin oil sheen, Casting an ill rainbow to the bottom. I wish, therefore, it must not be real. My lines, he told me later, consist Of murky reed pulled from too far. I am too far gone to reconcile with you, You who sit across the lake, filled With prayers that fall below. Viridian Tea Company - Strange and Unusual Tea Blends! Click HERE for the Etsy store link!  

 (Tea Muse artwork by Brittany Lewis) And so it begins . . . .  Tea Muse: (hiding behind a bookcase) Heh heh . . .  Frederica: (walking to her room, only to get a water balloon filled with cold tea splattered on her face) I say! Really! Ugh! (running to her room and slamming the door) The next day . . .  Frederica: (pointing to the notes on the sheet) Okay, here we go, and Open A and hold it! Me: (playing the open a on my violin) Frederica: Now, try this part by yourself. You've shown so much progress. Me: Thanks! (squinting my eyes as I play the notes) Tea Muse: (suddenly appearing) Sounds good! Lemme try! (taking the violin from me, sticking it under her chin, and proceeds to play Paganini's 24 Caprices)  Frederica: (mouth hanging open) Me: (mouth hanging open) Tea Muse: (stops playing) What? Oh, here ya go. (returns my violin and then goes upstairs) And still the next day . . .  Tea Muse: (taking a long shower while singing off key, only to scream as a snake falls into the