My End of Summer Table

I first wrote and shared a poem inspired by Edip Cansaver's 'The Table' way back in early 2021. Since then I have used it more than once with Stories of Hope and Home as a vehicle for exploring life, identity, experiences and memories.

Most recently, we used it to look back over the summer, to reflect on the highs and lows of a season which for many of us included moments of community, great joys and lots of laughter, but also some significant challenges and sources of stress. Through conversation, writing and drama, we reflected on what the summer had meant for us, on what we were taking with us into the next season, and on what we hoped to leave behind. After several weeks of collaborative exploration, I invited individuals, using the original poem as a template, to write their own version. Despite following the same structure, they were each very different.

This is mine.

My end-of-summer Table

I, a friend, filled with sunshine
Came in from the summer
And put my pile of used bus tickets on the table
I put left-over cake and an unfinished cup of tea there
I put my sunhat as well as my raincoat on the table.
I put there the warmth of community
The sound of laughter and of a special song
The gentle pressure of another hand in mine
And new life I put there
On the table the friend put
Things that happened in my mind
A never endling list of things still to be done
I put that there.
Those I really wanted to understand and those I knew I never would
I put them on the table.
All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights
I put our shared humanity on the table.
I was next to a window, looking out on a sky within and beyond reach,
I reached out and placed silver-lined storm clouds on the table.
So many times I wanted to be able to make a difference
I put on the table my limitations
I placed there my energy and my exhaustion,
My memories of what was and my dreams of what might be
The state of the world and my tenacious hope for something different I placed there
I stood by the table and leant against it.
It sagged but did not break.
I turned, and walked into the colours of autumn and their promise of change.