The Teapot

I packed my bag and left home and felt as though I were a traveler with no future
at a road with no end
I carry a bagful of pain and sadness
walking with the same of great defeat
in a battle against self
I then became ashes
scattered by the winter winds
taking me from one place to another
until I find myself in my late aunt’s house
the scent evokes memories of her
a love that agitates my distressed self
and extinguishes the fire of misery and torment
that was raging within me
I linger for a while
pondering
the glittering teapot…
I see you like no one else does
your sound spouting the cries of my loneliness
your sweet smell reminds me…
of my mother and father
my brother
my sister
the neighbors, the laughter
the wafting scent of mint
I’m impatient…
to take a sip
it takes me to my abandoned home…
I fell silent and went out while the wind was blowing and began to wonder who am I?
am I the breeze cooled by the winter wind?
or the rose that was scorched by the summer sun?
am I a relic of the past or the present?
or the future?
where am I? where am I?