Holy Thursday

It's been so long, why apologize. I went to Galway; it was nice; I'm back.

Tonight I was in town to mail a letter (grant acceptance letter) and remembered it's Holy Thursday, so I went to the Quaker meeting house in Temple Bar. Sat in silence for about a half hour, except one time when someone said something. Me, four students from a Quaker college in Iowa (really cool), and two other older Friends. There's something about sitting in silence with a few other people that is just more potent than any structured event.

So, here's a poem for you by Paul Muldoon, on the occasion:

Holy Thursday

They're kindly here, to let us linger so late,
Long after the shutters are up.
A waiter glides from the kitchen with a plate
Of stew or some thick soup,

And settles himself at the next table but one.
We know, you and I, that it's over,
That something or other has come between
Us, whatever we are, or were.

The waiter swabs his plate with bread
And drains what's left of his wine,
Then rearranges, one by one,
The knife, the fork, the spoon, the napkin,
The table itself, the chair he's simply borrowed,
And smiles, and bows to his own absence.