By: Diana Renee Williams
Love’s feast comes calling with his delicious moans and steamy sighs. The honour of your presence is requested and you eagerly oblige.
You find the perfect gown, add the finishing touches. Invitation in hand and out the door you rush.
Candles lit, glasses filled to the brim. Dinner is ready, shall we go in? Escorted, seated at the head of the table. Trying to contain your excitement, you are barely able.
Enraptured in visions of a three course meal. Tonight your lover’s feast will soon be revealed. Plate set before you, dish finally uncovered, you squirm uncomfortably, disappointed by what your heart discovers.
Leftovers and crumbs are all that you see,
The revelation illuminates, and your anger grows obscene,
“How dare you serve a meager beggar’s meal to me!”
A booty call on Friday night and he hasn’t seen you all week,
Lack of commitment, time, affection; your future looks bleak,
“I have a girlfriend. It’s complicated, but we can still be chums.”
An impossible endeavour to make a meal out of crumbs.
Settling for crumbs of a relationships is a miserable trap,
Maybe you have been offered a shit sandwich perhaps?
Will you beg for pathetic crumbs? Wag your tail and play catch?
Feeding on bones, hoping to lap up small scraps.
Or will you honour yourself and show up bravely for love’s feast?
Abundance is your rightful inheritance, your King has bequeathed,
A table prepared before you, your cup runneth over,
Take the best of the offering and share it with others.
When leftovers, scraps and crumbs are exposed,
Recognize your true worth and know what you deserve,
As Nina Simone and other crooners observed,
“You’ve got to learn to leave the table when love is no longer being served.”
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