Vertigo

The following poem below, originally titled Oversteeped Tea, was first written for my blog and Substack in May 2023, and then further edited and included in my limited edition artist's book of poetry, A Tea Stronger Than Death: Poems of Hurt and Healing While On Sacred Buffalo Guardian Mountain.
- Mimi

Grief’s vertigo, softened by over-steeped Tea,
takes me back to the now. How missing Yeh Yeh
takes me to places I’m unprepared to travel to, no
time to check if my eyeliner is still drawn, cheeks
still pink. When I return from those memories,
the sharp bitterness of the cup enhances the
sweet past. Exhaling, I toss her leaves and start
again. 

This time, as I prepare Tea, I’m attentive to her,
aware of each second, a widening aperture, until
the focus is just right. I wade in the presence of
Tea, then swim in her waters to relate with him as
spirit, still grandfather, but missing his scent, his
hums, the only person’s humming I enjoyed.

Tea is a lake, or more accurately, a river, with 
glistening pigments and wafting memories that
take me downstream to those other realms. I
hear Yeh Yeh’s voice.‭ 咪咪 ‬(Mimi) is all I hear,
yet it’s also enough. Do I die a little each time I
miss him?