For a brief summer, in the golden days of 2019, a couple of friends and I ran a casual writer's group in Euston. It only lasted a handful of weeks, but one of the prompts we set ourselves was to write about a memorable dinner party. Here's my poem.
The Dinner Party
And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”
Luke 22.19
Gathered for the final time
They would not meet like this again
This dinner would become a sign
And their lives would soon forever change
He gently washed their feet for them
A strange thing, they said, for him to do
He said, “This symbolises love
Remember this and do it too…”
Did they recall the things they’d seen
As they tucked into lamb Passover stew?
Repeat his words and what they could mean
Or list the things they’d seen him do
There were miracles
Calmed outcast’s fears
Hope for those who did not belong
Comfort to the suffering
And those forgotten in life’s throng
Or did someone compliment the cook
And say, “That was an amaaaazing stew?”
Then tease each other lovingly
As closest friends will sometimes do?
We know he took and blessed the cup
Shared bread around as they gave thanks
The wine, we’re told, shows sacrifice
Of a man about to give his life
But could they understand that then
A group of such ordinary everyday men?
This simple evening throughout time
Would transform them all and become sublime
Yet one of them while gathered there
Realised this moment was profound
Shadow of death approaching near
His traitor’s kiss led to a thorny crown
Although two thousand years have passed
This dinner party has no end
He invites us all to join with him
To share bread and wine as his close friends
