I doled out my fruit to those with hunger in their eyes.
Presented on a silver platter,
I handed out napkins at the banquet.
They consumed the feast greedily,
Knives and forks at the ready for a time.
But soon, the knives and forks grew tiring,
And they resorted to hands,
Tearing into the flesh of ham and turkey,
Ripping grapes from their vines,
Drinking from the wine to their heart’s content.
Ribs picked clean, cans scattered across the floor,
Appetites sated.
Left alone at the banquet,
Food all gone,
I wondered if my offering had been enough,
Had they ever seen me,
Or just my fruit?
Then you arrived,
Carrying two plates, each with a sunny-side-up egg.
You placed one in front of me,
And one in front of yourself.
"Can you please pass the salt?"
I’m not used to this,
Not used to being treated with care.
But when I passed the salt,
My fingers didn’t tremble.
The simple act felt real,
A gift given, not taken.
For the first time,
I felt like I wasn’t alone at the table.
And in that quiet moment,
I realized,
This time, I don’t have to give everything away.
Some things,
Like kindness,
Can be shared without fear.