©2012 Susan Noyes Anderson
Image: The Meal by Paul Gauguin
Zada was woman, “the lucky one.”
She fed them from her rich, round bowl—
the milk of human kindness, poi of pain.
The young men waited—watched her shyly—
ate till she was hungry. Slyly
sliced her sweet fruit—supped again, again.
Giving is a wonderful thing, and being able to give of ourselves to others is a blessing. Nonetheless, a word of caution is warranted, and this poem gives it in a fairly loud stage whisper: We cannot fill the cups of our loved ones and friends when our own cups are empty. And sometimes, just sometimes, it’s okay to look out for number one.