The shadows are entering the room;
They have finally been provided with an invitation to sit at the table.
I am a nervous host,
Anxious and curious at the same time about how this feast may go.
And it is a feast that will be served,
As some of the shadows seated at my table appear ravenous to be heard and seen.
So, this feast demands that I am an attentive and obliging host,
And although I have invited them willingly to sit with me and dine,
I still carry the slight apprehension that they may be ungracious in their appetites and
devour me instead.
Nonetheless here we sit all together,
Resembling enemies who have much in common and now take tentative steps to call a
The conversation begins hesitantly at first and despite the nervous glances between my
shadowy guests and their nervous host,
It is clear there is goodwill on both sides.
The feast progresses well into the night, the conversation at times,
Moves between heated debate, genuine humour and at times tears,
Although none of those that fall are bitter.
The night finally ends for my guests and myself;
The sunlight filters through the uncurtained window,
And I watch my guests disappear one by one feeling sated by the night’s repast,
And the knowledge we shall dine again.