ONE

Chaos

Hive

Clanging

Laughing

Calling

Seven tables of seven beings

All circling one

A design

An intention

A flaw

A man alone

A brotherhood

A family

A partnership

A fellowship

A fan club

A groupthink

And a couple

One table is on their twelfth shot

Another barely beginning to order

Alone, rummaging over a glass of wine

Or eating their fill

I am the one to cater to them all

Gifting each with more than they ordered

Garnering favor beside atmosphere

Trusted with the most sacred of desires

Weight sustained upon my hands

Feet familiar with the shadow

Paces counted from memory

One last order

Halted by stares into the unknown

Distress upon a man’s face

Earning attention

“Did you want to break up?”

A gasp

A breath

Refocused

“Yes. I think we should.”

… I’ll return…

The eyes of the one eating alone shifted toward them

The candlelight failed to outshine him

Though his face was hidden beneath a hood

He was the first to notice

The loss of breath

The fight to hold back

The watery eyes

Lips pinched like dams to the river

“Did she just say what I think she said?”

A parent, hoping, but realizing

A daughter, fearful, but understanding

A cousin, saddened, but looking

“Well, I still love you.”

Yet, the chair slid back

The hips raised up

The hands reached for the purse

And, with a tear, an emptied seat

He stared into his phone

Muttering things the room was too big to hold

I was compelled

A glass of wine

A slice of cheesecake

The check

He only sat

Staring into the cushion which once sat a soul

The hooded man rose from his table

Hurrying to the center

Quickly, he filled the chair

Sliding it around the side

Grasping his hand

Though he could not acknowledge his presence

By doing any more than grasping in return

Slowly, he was pulled closer

Gently, he was tucked

Until he could weep

And dampen the cloth

Two tables now occupied by one party

Mouths hesitant to order another shot

Hands clasped in prayer

Brains storming over what they missed

Silence overcoming

Limbs unable to move

Fingers no longer typing, with pens down

I stood by the bar as I watched the room shift

Reality only returning by the alarming ring

More entrees needed delivering

Life did not stop

More work to be done

Yet, my feet struggled down paths they had learned to walk

Seats filled with men given food to eat

Without the appetite

Shots placed at tables too soured to drink

I erred in giving too much lemon without water

We all watched…

The way the hand grazed through the man’s hair

It felt as if he had been there

Seated in the same place

Suffering the same pain

Questioning everything right along with him

He comforted him

Placing napkins to his face before revealing him to the room

Eyes bloodshot and watery

Nose worse than allergies

He was devastated…

One by one, they wondered what it was

Did she not see how great a man he is?

Was she intimidated by his words and his walk?

Did he not do enough?

What was happening?

Was he too distracted to see her?

Was God at the center of it?

The two began to converse

I was summoned away by the ringing at the bar

Caring enough to leave extra napkins

When the room felt messy

Frozen

Reality kept me moving

More shots

More conversing

More living

More serving

More… everything

To see a man so broken

Lacking function outside violent convulsions

Trembling hyperventilation

Threatening hypertension

Injecting anesthetics

Until the why becomes whatever

They all wonder

Will he pick up the pen again?

Will he walk dream’s sleep?

Will his heart be defeated?

Will he regain his motivation?

Will he learn to love again?

Will he change?

Will he trust Me?

Through the chaos, I heard, “I still believe in You.”

So, the men returned to drinking

The family to eating

The partners to meeting

The fellowship to congregating

The fan club to debating

The groupthink to writing

And the remaining… to hoping

I remain here for them all

Serving

Waiting

Anticipating

Comforting

Cheering

Not for the bigger tip

But for the bigger heart in me