In the presence of my enemies
of death and dying,
grief and failure,
pain and anxiety,
A table has been prepared.

Not just with a soldier’s canned rations,
a traveler’s bread and water,
a servant’s leftover lunch.

But with French pastry and blueberry muffins.
Spanakopita, hummus, steak, and milkshakes.
The good snacks!
In copious amounts!
Literal gallons of soup.
Pancakes, fresh berries, and seven-dollar coffees.

A feast
for a well-hugged daughter
watching the sun set
in the valley of the shadow of death.