“She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”” Matthew 15:27
some with mournful eyes,
some with weary hearts,
some with hope beating within,
we wait under the table—
hands wide open,
hearts chipped like old bowls—
watching to see if
bits of mercy might fall,
if just a morsel of love
might be brushed off laps.
but you kneel down,
not with cold leftovers,
but with bread made warm
by the Spirit’s breath,
grace with the rich aroma
of home, where the door
stands open to welcome us.
in this world where fences
are put up around abundance,
you whisper,
there is room for everyone
and dash by pinch,
we are offered seats
at that table with no corners,
not because we beg
but because you love.
© 2025 Thom M. Shuman
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman
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