Slow Food

I am here.

I am never going anywhere.

Never ever forever.

I am the dish sitting on the table,

brimming over, steam still rising.

The lights are dark.

All have gone home,

and the world has long come to pass.

You are the soul with a million million tastes,

over your lips.

Breathing them in like life and life renewed.

I am the food this soul has known,

when things were not things.

I only wait for you to feast.

I …

am the anticipation of your next bite.

I have waited far too long.

I am the ache in your tongue

as our wish is fulfilled.

I feel the pull of eons

as I trickle to the fire in you.

I have filled your belly

on so many Sunday afternoons.

You have forgotten my name in your slumber.

When wheat is no more

And water has turned to dust

I will be slow food.

Pray you now.

Pray you now,

For evening has come,

The smell of blood,

The dying’s death drum.

The fires all piled high

The hulls all burning

Rest you worn heart.

For morning’s returning.

 

Pray you now,

For friends gone today,

Their souls set free,

Their ashes back to clay.

With sand and straw

In bricks their new form.

Our defenses they’ll be.

They demand us not mourn.

 

Pray you now,

Wipe away all the flesh.

Tend faithful weapons,

Keen edges made fresh.

With broth and bread,

Your wounds restrained.

Your losses subside,

The mourning contained.

 

Pray you now,

For light soon returns.

The lines will be forming,

The slick ground churned.

So gather your blades,

And lash to your spear.

With rays of fury,

The morning draws near.

 

Pray you now,

Never sacrifice the chance.

You have but one try,

In this deadly dance.

War with it now.

The outcome certain.

With blinding resolve,

Lift mornings next curtain.