may it come that all the radiances
be known as our own radiances
~The Tibetan Book of the Dead

As we eat, may we come to see
this generous bird is the seed
of our own earthbound flight,

these potatoes, our own
bright familial roots, reaching
through what is heavy and dark
to one another,

this corn, the sun’s teeth shining
in our own mouths,

these creamy beans, the liquid
marriage of everything green
in our own hearts and busy fingers,

this bread, our own ever-leavening
toward golden,

this pumpkin pie, the eight-spoked
wheel turning and turning us true,

this table, the mirror of our own
abundance upon which your faces
become mine, and we feast on
each other’s delight.


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