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SPIRIT
Senior Member

since 2002-12-29

Posts 1745
California Desert

0 posted 2004-11-22 10:03 AM

THANKSGIVING

Spiritual Scribe

I sit here
On my allotted cloud,
Quill in hand,
Wondering what to write
In the Ledger of Life.

I am a Spiritual Scribe,
Or a Heavenly Journalist,
If you will…my assignment today
Visit a house of wealth,
A house of just enough
And a house of lack.
To chronicle
Whether or not
Thanksgiving
Was still a day
Of Thanksgiving.

I entered comfortably
Through the walls
Of the house of wealth.
I am but an ethereal mist
Unseen to the living eye.
The house was filled with laughter,
Little girls in pretty dresses,
Boys in Sunday best
Playing, teasing, having fun.
Women fixing the table,
Men, sharing comradely chit chat
And watching the television.

I moved silently and effortlessly
To a large portrait…
Such a handsome young man
Full of life with laughing eyes.
The sideboard top beneath
Was clad in a black runner,
Atop of which sat many photographs
Of this same young man,
I saw by the pictures
He  was a New York City fireman.
On a September day,
I know…he lost his life.

Time to eat,
The adults  sat around a large table
Weighted down with turkey
And all the trimmings.
The children sat at smaller tables,
Scattered, but  close.
There was one chair that sat empty,
At the head of the table,
With a black ribbon
Caressing the wooden back.
The place name said…Larry.

Hands held,
Blessings said,
Food eaten.
Lots of talk
A toast of thankfulness given,
Not only for what they had
But for what they had lost.
Thanksgiving was alive and well here.

My next stop was at a small house
One of many on a military base.
The furnishings were poor
But the place was cleanly kept
The woman was tired looking,
The color of sweet malted milk.
Her four small ‘hang around the
Hem of her dress’ children
Varied in shades of chocolate
To a lighter coffee cream.
They all clamored for her attention.

Their daddy was there,
But in picture only…
On the neatly set kitchen table.
He was standing with a dust-stormed desert,
As his less than colorful backdrop.
A man of rich chocolate color,
With a larger than life grin on his  face,
He was uniformed and proud.

The table was set
With a roasted chicken,
Mashed real potatoes,
Not from a box…
And a mix of corn and peas.
Apple pie and Cool Whip
Finished the meal.
Bubbly apple cider was served,
In Winnie The Pooh glasses.

Hands held,
Blessings said,
Food eaten.
Lots of talk
A toast of thankfulness given,
Not only for what they had
But for what and who
They were without,
Thanksgiving was alive and well here.

My next address
I was stunned by…
It was an old building
On a graffiti littered street,
Looked like a warehouse.
Inside was a hubbub of activity.

Long wooden tables,
Loaded with commercial type food containers
Filled brimful with hot food.
They stood in line, patiently,
Maybe a hundred people
Of all ages, all sizes, all color.
The clothes were ragged
Faces drawn and hungry
But filled with anticipation
That tonight they would not…
Go to sleep hungry.

A large poster print
Of my beloved Master
Hung crookedly upon the barren wall.
He was there…and they knew it.
They sat silently with bowed heads,
At rough hewn long picnic tables
On uncomfortable benches.
They counted their blessings
In each their own way,
Before tucking in
To the feast before them.

Kindly faced volunteers
Had filled their waxed paper plates
With wholesome fare.
They happily used plastic utensils,
And drank from paper cups.

Hands, touched in friendship
Blessings said,
Food eaten,
Lots of talk,
And a toast of thankfulness given.
Not only for what they had,
But for what they had lost.
Thanksgiving was alive and well here.

Yes indeed!
I know what to write.

Thanksgiving
All is well…
Thanksgiving
Was, and is, still a day
Of Thanksgiving.

Midnitesun

Member Empyrean

since 2001-05-18

Posts 28647
Gaia

1 posted 2004-11-22 10:40 AM

Thank you!
I'm keeping this, to read again on Thanksgiving Day.

JamesMichael
Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-16

Posts 33336
Kapolei, Hawaii, USA

2 posted 2004-11-22 06:39 PM

Feeling this...you are top gun...one of my favorites...James

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