Coffee Trail
written by: Bilquis Fatima
Every morning, I drink hot steaming coffee with mild sunshine
That de-stresses and liberates
From headaches and languorous days.
I sit on the balcony holding
A cup of latte or cappuccino
With chocolate sprinkled on the top
The aroma of which punches my senses.
I watch smoke rising from the white mountains
Being kissed by the sun.
Enjoying the morning rush
My brain sharpens and gets ready to run
Marveling at the magic this frothy, strong liquid stores,
And in the froth’s myriad pores,
I see faces pale with sunken cheeks
staring at me with eyes like coffee seeds,
As if moving their lips to whisper something.
Stirring my coffee to settle the froth, my mind floats
towards a vast green plantation on a hillside.
where growers toil endlessly
among the rows of woody evergreens,
With hollow eyes, looking towards the sky
they pray for protection from weather, inclement
lest the plants get extremely bent,
depriving them of their precious beans
which passes through many hands
of shrewd traders, processors, roasters, and exporters
before it ends up roasted and ground,
in rich gold-plated coffee mugs
of restaurants and hotels that grab a handful of money
While the hands that tend the plants
don’t get enough for their concave stomachs.
My mind heats up and I pick up the cup
only to find that I had sipped every drop
of the strong decadent black brew that had now changed my view,
for in it I smell sweat and blood
Of famished coffee growers.
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