And we feasted
Concealing the truth that our fasting taught us:
We were ultimately hungry.
Away from the wilderness
concealing our thirst.
We made merry,
With the sound of drums and lires,
flutes and harps; and horns –
Concealing our sorrow,
In wine diluting our tears
‘But this bread has no substance
It fizzles on the tongue
fading in taste before teeth touch’
‘And this wine evaporates
with no sweetness
Nothing but the knowledge of a deeper sustenance,
and greater satisfaction
in the face of truly empty plates,
and hollow cups.’
So our feet are delayed in jest,
Our eyes utterly deceived,
Led by our desires we hide
Behind garments of Gold
made with leaves from the tree of the uncovering:
Sails raised but empty:
At the rudder in a desert’.
“Have you not seen?
Have you forgotten?
The seat upon which
but for the blood of the Lamb
you couldn’t approach?”
“The gift is greater than the trespass”
“Bread for the soul,
Water for the spirit,
A Spirit for dry bones.”
And so may it come to pass –
as indeed it already has –
That the great LORD laid out a table,
Placed upon it a loaf,
And beside the loaf a chalice.
Then with hands from compassion stretched out,
To the thirsty, the weary, the week,
The hungry, the broken, the meek,
The bound, the wailing, the weeping,
The fatherless, the widows, the seeking,
And the enslaved.
At the sound of His voice the music stopped
Fading into the sound of deep weeping.
The chefs downed their tools,
And parched tongues followed their hearts;
Ears to the wind,
Sheep by the staff.
In droves they came.
The chalice overflowed,
And the bread was never consumed,
Though broken and shared.
“Happy are those who are called to His supper”
©Denis Adide 2014