The Meal

What is there but that which we take in? 
Our eyes are hungry for the colours, 
Our nostrils for the fragrance, 
Our tongues for the taste, 
Our hearts for the love in preparation and sharing. 

The meal is the sun around which we orbit, 
The force of cohesion which connects, 
Our centre and our source. 

Our first meal was mother, 
The others a memory and imagining 
Of that which was nurtured 
Or that which was lost.

Happy Mothers Day

Thanks to The Mag


Grace said...

A meal is more than meal, isn't it? I like the love that goes in to the preparation and sharing of memories~

Happy Mother's Day to you ~


Laurie Kolp said...

There is so much that revolves around food... enjoyed this!

Brian Miller said...

i really like the meal being the center as i think that is where it starts in a family you know...really like that opening stanza too...us being the sum of what we take in...

21 Wits said...

The way to man's heart is through food! Ha ha! Very nice, and a Happy Mother's day to you too!

elizabeth said...

This is a really lovely poem which makes all sorts of lovely essential connections lightly and elegantly.
Mother/food/family/sense details. Rich indeed.

So wouldn't it be grim to have a mother who fed you formula and thereafter shipped you off to McDonalds.

elizabeth said...

Did not mean to put lovely in twice!
Poor editing EW

De Jackson said...

LOVE this: "Of that which was nurtured
Or that which was lost." Excellent.

Helen said...

'The meal is the sun around which we orbit' .... so true. We come together, share stories, feelings, create lasting memories ..

Carrie Van Horn said...

Love the beautiful thoughts in this....lovely writing indeed!!

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