For All the Saints

I met the great cloud

one Easter Sunday long ago

as the old man retired

came to preside at the table

I not yet official enough

not yet seasoned enough

not yet ready enough

to do – word proclaiming

is one thing – table serving

quite another

and with a bit of a shaky hand

and tremulous voice

he told of his anticipation

standing there every time

where he was sure his

mother and sister

long gone from earthly things

would be – waiting – for him

and they would dine together

as they used to do

I have never forgotten

that moment when – in

story-telling – the table

came alive for me

and I knew so many already

there I was so glad to meet

again and better here

at this table where

we could meet when

on the same side of the veil

we so often could not

and I was glad