A weekly light — poetry, stories, and reflections from the strange in-between.

A Prayer for the Feast

Bless the turkey,
dry or not—
we pretend it’s perfect
because pretending is tradition.

Bless the mashed potatoes,
the one dish that never betrays us,
soft as forgiveness
and twice as necessary.

Bless the stuffing,
that strange miracle of carbs
we only make once a year
and then wonder
why we don’t worship it daily.

Bless the rolls—
those soft, golden halos
that vanish faster
than good intentions.

Bless the pie table,
a shrine of sugar
where we suddenly forget
how to count slices.

And bless the moment
before anyone digs in—
that hush, that held breath,
that brief shimmer of gratitude
right before the chaos returns
and someone drops a spoon
or burns their tongue.

May the feast be warm,
the arguments mild,
the portions generous,
and the joy real enough
to taste.

🕯️ Lantern Note:
Thanksgiving has its own kind of magic — not the quiet, haunting kind, but the warm, chaotic, gravy-splattered kind. I wanted something light, something that celebrates the weird little rituals we all pretend are normal. A poem to honor the food, the frenzy, and the fleeting moment of peace before the table erupts into clatter again.

If today gives you even one small moment of calm joy, may it be enough

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