"Here, let me cut you a thick slice,"
    she said,
flourishing the knife
    like a conductor leading Beethoven's 5th.

"There," she said,
    loading it onto my plate.
"One large slab
    of the Bread of Life."

It came warm from the oven,
    steaming tendrils rising like incense,
and smelled, as one would expect,
    heavenly.

"Butter's over there;
    help yourself."

I did.
    As generous as she'd been
with the bread,
    so too was I with the butter.
As it melted, I said,
    "Is there more where this came from?
I know many just waiting
    for such a gracious slice."

"We are always more than enough."

I lifted the Bread to my mouth,
    closed my eyes,
and ate.
    Mmm…
It had smelled heavenly;
    it tasted divine.

Whatever hunger
    I'd brought to the table
faded,
    whatever longing,
whatever heartache,
    whatever loneliness…

I licked the last bits
    off my fingers,
leaned back,
    and sighed,

utterly satisfied.

Utterly.

Text and image © 2020 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
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