In every conversation
there is a table made of listening.
Sometimes the tables are beautiful,
solid, clean—the kind
that can support anything
you put on them.
Sometimes, they’re like
the tv dinner trays
of my childhood—
a little rickety, but they’ll do
if what’s put on them is light.
Sometimes they’re so cluttered
that whatever’s placed on their surface
is almost immediately lost.
Let tonight’s table have a small vase of flowers
and a candle perhaps, nothing else.
May it be small enough we might
see each other’s eyes, might notice
every nuance of breath. Whomever
I am most nervous to invite,
may I invite them. And though
the tea is just a metaphor,
may I offer. May they accept.
Find this poem published in the amazing ONE ART POETRY
I love this metaphor! For folks on all sides of current issues, meaningful conversation seems to have been replaced with rants where disliked people and ideas are mocked. And then we bemoan society’s increasing polarization…
thank you, Chris … yes, I think real conversations are what will save our country–listening and sharing. I have hope …
This is the most delightful invitation! I just love this poem and all its metaphors, the table being the blank slate that we embellish. Thank you for this gem, Rosemerry!
thank you, Rebecca! How wonderful to see you here–I’ve been missing you!
Oh, and I’m missing you too Rosemerry! At least I get to read your luscious words in Hush at night and sometimes I get to hear your voice on Emerging Form. So I am enjoying your many generosities. Still, I do hope we meet at a table for poetry and tea soon!
xo
xo