28 plates + 1

Art by Leslie Smith

They enter the room

One by one

As they take their place at the table

28 friends, myself 29th

The characters of this well worn fable

I watch them laugh and jeer and question

The familiarity like a cable

Tying the lives to one another

I soak it up while I’m able

I understand now it’s time to rest

To lay down this weathered old novel

The movie I tell myself and the others

The jury

The judge with their gavel

They won’t leave without a fight

And that knowledge draws a smile

They say you never bury someone once

But repeatedly over the years

I look at those I’ll have to bury

With gratitude reverence and fear

I think of the times 16 would defend me

The times 6 would snuggle near

5 would play and smell the flowers

23 would switch careers

3 would revel in the bubbles and sunlight

17 would preach to her peers

25 would experience heartbreak

While 8 would wipe her tears

14 would stiffen up her upper lip

While 10 would taste her first beer

27 would become a mother

While 6 would wish hers was near

Who will I be if I put it all to rest

Who am I born anew

Will the softness that overtakes me prove

To be too soft for what I’ve been through

Can the survivor within me let go

Can this woman trust her own view

Without the well whispered advice

Of her battle proven ship and crew

Who am I when I leave the table last

A profound eery feeling seeing yourself

Without the years that have passed.

Something profound in the rebellion of spirit

as you choose your next life path

28 friends, myself 29th

Through everglades, embers, and chance

There’s less to cook for

Less to regret

When there’s only one plate

and fork

and map