Our Table




BY CLAUDIA HAYMAN


Each night
we gather around our table,
baptised by nicks and burns
with sharp, elbowed edges,
with sanded-over seams
and wonky grains 
and pulsing veins.

Each night
we gather around our table,
worn by the day’s small exhaustions.
We gather
to bear witness to truths 
that can’t be eaten alone.
We gather
to worship the divinity
of ordinary,
and in doing so,
be undone 
by offerings of care,
nagging and bitter learning.

Each night
we gather around our table,
swearing love and hate
by heaven and darker places,
buffeted and bolstered 
by laughter
and inarticulate anger,
measured out in held breaths
and table dents.

We gather,
holding fast to what exists
in the raw and desperate regions
of long-standing love,
the home of eating, drinking 
and indecent confession
as we believe in maybe,
grace and family.

Each night
we gather around our table,
to live in each other’s 
shelter and shadow.
We gather,
to feel out the corners of ourselves,
where we end,
where we begin.




︎Claudia is a first year PPE/Law student and a total word nerd.
She accidentally fell in love with poetry after writing trashy birthday
rhymes on her friends' Facebook timelines.︎


︎︎︎   ︎︎︎