By Alexandra Lane
Laughter rings the dinner bell.
Joy, the raw clanging in your bones.
It is time to sit;
to hold hands in grace;
to hold grief in place,
if only so briefly,
for a world changed
by suffering and its echoing toll.
So, then pass the peace warmth coursing
from bowls to palms.
A share for all,
a sort of justice found here among you.
Forks and spoons chime in prayer:
as at this table,
so too, in the world.
Tonight you
dine on the fruit of the spirits;
sip the overflowing cup
of community;
welcome the fullness of your belly;
and know that you are loved.
Tonight you walk from here
emboldened to live a life
resonant of the table
you leave behind.