Day 1, We Are Winter Poets
set the table
Welcome to Day 1 of We Are Winter Poets!
Today’s theme is the table.
The solstice meal, and many celebrations and ceremonies worldwide, feature meals shared around a table or roaring fire.
So today, we reflect on that table.
In Winter’s Gifts, Dani and her family are found around their table, eating a full and cozy meal of soups, yule log, tarts, and more. They are celebrating the gifts of Winter and Grandfather Sun’s birthday, a time when the night is long but the days will longer again as well.
So, let’s think about the table. What happens there? Why is it special? Is it a truly liminal place that we don’t always understand but often appreciate?
I’d love for us to enter into poetry this time through embodiment. So as you settle in to write your poem, I encourage you to do a few things. First, get totally comfortable, pick a favorite spot or comfortable chair. Second, take a few deep breaths. Then, close your eyes and focus in on the words of the prompt, so for today’s, the table. Repeat the words a few times, as much as you need to, let them sink in, while still breathing deeply, slowly.
Embody the words, and then write, and see what happens.
The Table
Don’t be afraid to go all out this time,
the table is waiting for you. Ready.
Don’t be afraid to use the good china,
to light all the candles and get out the sparkling stuff.
Today we celebrate everything.
Don’t be afraid to be take your time here. There is absolutely no where else to be.
Linger, enjoy, refresh, believe, breathe, taste and taste again— the table won’t let you down.
Don’t be afraid to laugh here. We hold space for tears, too. The table lets us be human.
And when the moment dies down and everything goes quiet, when the candles burn to pools of wax and the music gets slower and more tender, go tender then, too.
The table is a home of tenderness when we allow it to be.
Don’t be afraid to clean up slowly, replaying it all in your head— every moment a memory, every intention a beginning.
Winter is coming, and the table will sustain you. Don’t be afraid to let it.
I'm so grateful you decided to offer this space, Kaitlin. I'm often surprised by where I end up when following your prompts, and that definitely happened today. My poem isn't especially warm or celebratory. Instead, it's an honest reflection on where I am at this moment.
The table is full -
covered and cluttered
by all manner of items
- and yet...
the table is empty.
No one is gathering,
eating,
doing,
being
together, here.
There is so much
in the way,
and I am
so very
tired.
The Table
The Table
Every month, we come to the table:
Clean, ancient wood we call the welcome table.
A table of grace
A table of hope.
A table of peace.
A table of joy.
A table of love.
Always prepared to make the table bigger
and wider
as we come to understand
all who have been excluded
from these tables
far too long.
In my life,
I have found many tables.
Some of them have been empty,
others have been silent from the weight
of what has, or will, come.
Too many tables with empty places,
the quiet grief from those who have left us.
Oh so many tables where the language
of anger and fear was all
that was spoken.
I dream of a table where isolation turns to community;
Violence dissolves into peace,
rabbit holes become meadows and mountains of light;
Hate suddenly explodes in love;
Wars of heart, mind and body finally are history.
Broken hearts healed inside out.
My tears, our tears, move to quiet laughter,
gathered together, finally, at this table.