The food is simple, seasoned
with a dash of salt, a sprinkling of pepper.
There is bread, and water to drink,
or at times a glass of wine.
A candle or two on the table.
A white table cloth, my grandmother’s.
There is little extravagance here.
It is not my nature, or rather
That tendency, to over do, over think, over feel
has been my nemesis for far too long,
paralyzing me, overwhelming me,
leaving me too often speechless
in the worst of times.
And so, I simplify. I slow down.
I give my heart a chance to catch up
with the world around it.
This is not a sacrifice. No.
For in the slowing, I see…. deeper
that I ever could when left to my own devices.
I see the invisible things – God, love, peace, hearts.
And even if it matters less to others, this seeing,
it is worth the discipline
About this poem
Some people see simplicity as a virtue. I see it as a survival skill, with benefits.