The Invitation

The date was practically illegible on the invitation,
Between the hurried scribbles and smudge marks
All we were able to discern was a tangled
"Your presence is requested at the union of..."
With the rest worn off by dust and frequent foldings.
The careless scrawl revealed signs of impatient haste,
Though what pervaded the clustered barrage of words,
In matter of fact, drew more along the lines of excitement.
Our friends were getting married, and there was to be a party.

Weddings are always full of merriment, hope, and dreams,
The clouds of instability, finance, challenged commitments
Still at bay somewhere beyond the laughter of the first month
Or two that so sweetly slip by after the honeymoon.
But weddings are for dancing, cheer, and wine,
Not some dim reflection on the harder times that do come.
We were honored to be guests, for though we were complete,
To witness a hint of that joy among others seemed to him
The same, with respect to pleasure, as marital bliss itself.

I speak here of my son, who loves so... naturally.
It is an effort for me to say "yes," to look beyond myself,
To see past the fear and hesitation of some herald
Who stares straight into your soul, asking you the impossible.
But my God, the boy does it with such ease of nature!
He grasps things so cleary--our writings and the poor--
And leaves scholars scratching their overly-educated heads,
But this is not the time for that, for we were in the presence
Of a newlywed promise for a lifetime as one, to form many.

Late in the afternoon, a young man approached us,
Disconcerted, concerned; clearly something was the matter.
"They ran out of what?" I gawked and then glanced
Toward my son, who bore an amusingly perplexed look.
He didn't have to be here, he did not need this,
But he was, and he wanted it more than all else.
All he sought was simply to share what others had lost,
What he gave so fully, what flowed so freely from his father.
His irked eyes spoke, "Wine celebrates our gathering, its joy."

Quietly he got up, following the flustered fellow.
When they passed me by, I grasped the waiter's arm,
A thousand thoughts rushed upon my mind,
Pondering if I should make mention of any or everything--
Of the lepper he embraced on the way here,
Of the authorities he silenced with his own,
Of how this would make all else pale in comparison.
As eternity-in-a-second drew to an end, looking to our servant,
My frail voice uttered but one thing: "Do whatever he tells you."