-A quiet meditation on shared presence, the poem reflects on how people can gather without agreement and still create connection through proximity, patience, and the simple act of staying.
The table is longer
than necessary.
Wood worn smooth
by years of use.
Chairs uneven.
Some repaired.
Some older
than the room itself.
It was not built
for agreement.
It was built
for capacity.
To hold
more people
than comfort prefers.
Plates are set
without precision.
Different sizes.
Different patterns.
Enough space
for everyone
to place something down.
They arrive
in small groups.
Some early.
Some hesitant.
A few
take seats
at opposite ends
without speaking.
The table does not arrange them.
It does not suggest
who belongs where.
It simply remains
wide enough
to include.
Food appears
in portions
that require passing.
A bowl moves
from one hand
to another.
Brief contact.
Unnecessary,
but unavoidable.
Conversations begin
in fragments.
Weather.
Work.
Safe terrain.
The edges
of deeper things
wait their turn.
At some point
voices overlap.
Not in argument.
In presence.
Stories told
without needing
to replace another.
No one agrees
on everything.
This is understood
without announcement.
Still,
no one leaves
immediately.
Time lengthens.
Chairs shift.
Postures soften.
Distance remains,
but it is measured
in inches now,
not miles.
Someone laughs.
Not loudly.
But enough
to travel
the length of the table.
It arrives
without resistance.
The meal ends
without resolution.
No final statement.
No conclusion
to carry away.
Just plates emptied
and something shared
without definition.
The table remains
after they leave.
Silent again.
Unclaimed.
Ready
for the next gathering
of difference
held in place
long enough
to become
something else.