At The Master´s Table Poem by obed Souza

Under The Master´s Table

“The woman came and knelt before him. “ Lord, help-me! ” she said”
He replied, “ It is not right to take the children´s bread and toss it to the dogs.”
“ Yes, Lord, “, she said, “ but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters´ table. “
Then Jesus answered “ Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.”
(Mattew 15: 25-28)

It has been quite a short time
Since I have first realized
That palaces and king´s chambers
Are not good places for truth to hide
Because milk and honey
On their tables do not abide.


History has whispered that
Gold and silver vessels
Might not hold the meal taste
And savory dishes can be rejected
If not served by well dressed hired servants.

Where, then, can truth -
The food for the hungry
Be found?

Truth will never be clothed!
Truth accepts no bribe!
It is edible … served raw!
No flattery is accepted within the realms of this kingdom!
It carries neither scents nor spices
Of good deeds from those ones of royal descent.
It stands high in the skies, though reached only by the beggar´s empty stomach,
It might be offensive, therefore challenging
It unveils secret inner places where we feed our prejudices,
A disguise for our self-justice and pride.
It strips us off our royal rags, we cherish as ‘ ourselves’
Humility and sincerity wait on its banquet!
Offensive enough to proud lost children,
Sharp and blunt to the scornful and disobedient,
Yet, altogether gracious and tender to the humble.

Pilate turned his back to it,
The mob has sentenced it to death,
Power has made it guilty of crimes against humanity,
The non-believer calls it a liar and illusionist,
Others say it kills… it poisons.

Where can truth be found, then?

It is bred in the land of starvation
An underground world
Where comfort zones are not allowed
Under the master´s table, where the underdogs
Strive for food - celestial food.
It is sometimes seated on the ground, among the outcast …
Or in the dust of the earth, our next of kin
And where real life can be brought fourth
Where a dog lies as a dog
But rises a real son of the king of kings
Heir of the greatest of all gifts:
The honour of eating daily bread at the master´s table.

Obed R. Souza