On Whom to Invite to the Feast

Be out of words.

Be through with the platitudes of

polite society.

Be in need of something holy.

Return to a gathering place

alone and fallow. Stand

where contours of earth are traced

by wind and light.

Let the fire of hunger

throw its fury into shadows

while hands prepare a lavish meal in

silence.

There is a work being done, unknowing,

a wedding in Cana in need of its company.

Beyond the usual and ordained,

invite the orphans of hiddenness,

the quiet, unfulfilled desires.

Invite a tempered anonymity.

Invite the prodigal and his brother.

Invite fear and reluctance.

Invite the deeds done unheralded and

those performed in shallowed pride.

Invite every squandered moment.

Invite ignorance and her twin sister certitude.

Invite envy and smallness,

and every loose regret. Invite the

denied. Invite the dispossessed.

Invite the stranger within

whom no one has

known or loved. Invite the exile.

When the proclamation of the feast has been received,

and all seems ready;

wait, breathe, rest…

for from the vast horizons

in all directions will

come the oft unwelcomed guests of

actual character, legion within a

kaleidoscope soul.

Place a ring on fingers, a robe on shoulders.

Watch as each disfigured face alights in

awed relief, blossoming deeper beauty out

into the music and the laughter.

Let the raucous celebration resound joyous into the night

for this is the great homecoming.

And there, at the threshold

glowing sure against the darkness,

besmirked and coy,

arriving almost too late:

the words.

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