An Empty Table

Image by Pat Castaldo

I sit at the head of my long banquet table,

I worry and wait as long as I am able.

For those who called me daughter, sister, or blood,

Found reasons for years to tell me I’m no good.

But no matter this ache, hurt, or betrayal,

Their plates will be perfect and I will prevail.

I sit at the head of my long banquet table,

I worry and wait as long as I am able.

For those I adopted, from broken homes or minds,

I quietly recall lifting them from the dirt and sticking grime.

I accepted and loved them, from the depths of my heart.

Even though I know I was just their running start.

I sit at the head of my long banquet table,

I worry and wait as I find myself unable,

To face the truth that sits across from my seat,

That over my years, I am nothing but defeat.

Empty chairs and muted mouths sing praises of my past

Even though I know that this delusion will not last.

I sit at the head of my long banquet table

With sobs in my throat and my mind unstable.

The truth of my value to those absent few,

Brings doubt to my mind, causing sadness to renew.

In silence I sat, until a chair moved,

The figure that joined me, complimenting the food.

A dizzying flurry of figures arrive,

Without payment or begging, to be by my side.

“I brought dessert!” One makes a decree

Another moves into action “I’ll make the coffee.”

With this outpouring of love I finally feel able

To sit at the head of my long banquet table.