A Seat at the Table

The table looked so inviting that Christmas Eve

So eager to welcome my children and me

Or so I believed

In the dim fluorescent lights, how was I to know those were jackals smiling back at me

Seeking to devour us

From honored guests to delectable feast

It barely took a year

Last minute on a Monday night

You said they saved a seat at the table for me

But not for my children

Was I to discard them like an old blanket?

To make my flesh easier to chew

A vestige of the life I had before you

A gamey loose end

An inconvenient reminder that you joined a ready-made family

An ecosystem with its own nuisance and traditions

They saved me a seat at the table because they knew I'd never fill it

I'd never pick them over the family I had created through blood, sweat, and tears

They saved me a seat at the table, but the seat was a test

Could I be controlled

Would I conform

How easily could I be consumed

They saved me a seat at the table to placate you

They waited to order to test the waters

Would you keep your word to me, or would you bend the knee to their desires?

They saved me a seat at the table

But I dined alone

Waiting for you to come home

Waiting for you to see that the table was never going to serve me nourishment, only malice

Now…

I no longer wait

I've removed your seat

Using the legs as kindling to reignite my own flame

Choosing solitude over metered companionship

No longer waiting for the table to make room for all that I come with

I'm sure they've saved a seat for you

A table full of picked-over carcasses and broken dreams

Your seat will only cost you your soul

Is it worth it?

Was losing me worth it?

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