the table

We sat down at that table so many times before

but the tone has shifted.

There’s been lies, there’s been deception.

The hard wooden table waits for us.

The lights above shine down like a spotlight

of what was a defining moment for you and I.

Tears were cried, anger was expressed

Boundaries were violated.

Fear exists in uncertainty.

We assume the roles we’ve been taught to emulate

in such a moment.

The perpetrator and the victim.

Good cop, bad cop

The accused and the accuser.

Husband and wife, externally

Wife and wife, internally.

All bubbles pop at some point

You can’t put an egg back in it’s shell once it’s cracked.

An egg to represent the self.

An egg to represent the broken trust.

An egg to represent the life we planned together

shattered, beyond repair.

Do physical objects embody

the energy of their external environment?

To this day, I think of the table

and the energy it holds

as the next family sits down for dinner.