Cupfuls of Hope 

Cupfuls of Hope 

In Dhaka’s heart, where cha weaves daily lore— 

A tapestry of tales from core to shore. 

Neighbors draw near, summoned by the brew’s hum, 

In laughter steeped, their old worries succumb. 

Tea, my daily ritual; its warm embrace 

Bridges the gap to a cherished place. 

Each sip a journey back through time’s embrace, 

To homeland’s hearth, where past and present lace. 

Life’s colors bleed into each steaming cup, 

A mingled yarn of joy and sorrow sup. 

Roadside scenes unfold, life’s rich drama staged, 

In every sip, the human heart engaged. 

More than routine, this sacred thread unspun— 

A ritual of souls, many becoming one. 

Though tempers flare, the soothing steam will rise, 

Quelling the storm, under calm, watchful skies. 

Communities merge in shared resilience, 

Each sip a pact, a prelude to quiescence. 

Dreams drawn in aromatic swirls from lip to soul, 

Painting fresh starts as old roles unroll. 

Yet in England’s quiet, my tea sips alone, 

A solitary cup, a far cry from home. 

The laughter once shared, the faces now gone, 

Each steeping a reminder of the dawn. 

Cha, my steadfast friend, through shadows and light, 

Guides me, a beacon in the darkest night. 

Remembered wisdom under Dhaka’s sun, 

From an old sage whose words were never done. 

Tea mends the arcs of stories torn and told, 

A soothing salve for the heartaches of old. 

Amidst life’s whirl, a comforting embrace, 

A tranquil sip, setting troubles to erase. 

That serendipitous meet, a crossroads of fate, 

Led me to see beyond life’s scattered state. 

Here, amid England’s grey, through quietude’s lens, 

I find depth in tea’s reflective expanse. 

Bittersweet narratives rise in steamy trails, 

From bustling Dhaka where friendship prevails. 

Yet even in solitude, each sip reveals a pact, 

In silent communion, an unspoken act. 

More than a beverage, tea extends its hand, 

Across seas stormy, to every land. 

In every twist of life, it remains true, 

A constant companion, seeing us through. 

More than mere leaves, tea scripts life’s grand play, 

A chapter brewed in hues of night and day. 

With each cup raised, a silent bond we trace, 

In tea’s warm clasp, a hopeful embrace. 

So as you cradle your next cup of cha, 

Ponder the depths that it unveils so far. 

To mend, to share, to start anew, 

In each cupful of hope, find strength to pursue.

Written by: William Gomes

Featured in the book: “Unbound Voices: A Polyphonic Rebellion” by William Gomes.