The Lord’s Table

The banquet table was spread, 
But I could no longer smell 
Satisfaction in the room. 

I couldn’t swallow the smiles 
Nor could I decipher 
The language I once knew. 

But still I joined them, 
Nibbling crusts of dry bread 
And sipping tepid water. 

The elders’ faces grew old 
Like the legends 
That seasoned my youth. 

I sat in silent pews 
Staring past the chancel, 
Wanting more. 

I hungered to be 
Consumed, and left 
Emaciated.