Dishes

I was washing the dishes and watching my hands

Twist and scrub the bowls 

That held the leftover contents of easy meals, 

Snacks, second helpings

And I thought how lucky to have a sink full of dirty dishes

Even though moments before I cursed the chore 

Once again 

Always dirty dishes waiting for me with scraps of

This or that – remnants of milk, scrapes of peanut butter, drops of yogurt, chunks of meat, cheese, or bread. 

And for a moment I thought how I should have less to compare to the suffering of the world, the injustice of closed borders, food burned in incinerators, weeping mothers holding the remains of their starved children. How we should all have less in the face of so many with nothing. 

I blinked to push away the salt in my eye,

Daring to splash into the suds as it was –

Swallowed the stone in my throat, wondered if other lucky people felt guilt over dirty dishes.

And I decided instead how insulting it was 

The notion of shrinking to less – 

How insulting to imagine my less would equal their nothing.

They don’t need a starving martyr,

Or more people to go hungry, 

Or less bowls to wash

They need people with full bellies

demanding the same,

not less. 

I wish for dirty bowls everywhere,

Tired hands washing them

And the joyful cursing of this never ending chore 

– Rachael Coughlin 7/25