A Thanksgiving Psalm Of Graces Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

A Thanksgiving Psalm Of Graces



i

The table is set.
I'll have all the food I need,
All the time I need.

ii

The sacrifice begins. 
Like a priest I wash my hands. 
My meal awaits me.

iii

Sitting in my chair
I regard my naked plate,
My empty stomach.

iv

My feet touching the floor,
My mind free of distractions,
I view my choices.

v

I grasp my napkin.
In thought, in spirit, body,
I'm truly present. 

vi

My eyes are open.
My heart beats with excitement.
I feel overwhelmed.

vii

With platter in hand
I pick what will sustain me,
And keep me healthy.

viii

Gifts from rain, dung, sweat.
Bless the hands who brought these here.
Gifts of sky, earth, sea.

ix

From spade, hook, hearth, knife,  
Live worthy to receive each
Root, fin, crust and wing.

x

We ask forgiveness
Of all taken in its prime,
Giving life for life.

xi

I pause. I focus on
Favorite dreams, memories
To aid digestion.

xii

Even when alone,
For bites to chew and swallow
I take small portions.


xiii

I slowly raise my fork.
Each time I know I must do
Justice to each bite

xiv

My teeth gnaw and tear. 
I taste, smell, feel and savor
To appreciate.

xv

Scents assault my nose.
Embracing life with intent
I stop again to breathe.

xvi

Though others hunger
I choose to leave these morsel
I am satisfied.

xvii

Here and now I sip.
Mind and body dwell as one.
I made wise choices.

xviii

Full of gratitude,
Our hands to wash, teeth to brush.
This meal is over.

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