Live so Loud

Live so Loud

(“When food was served, he said, ‘I will not eat until I have said what I want to say.’” Genesis 24:33a)

Live so loud they can hear the love at the end of the street.
light the candles so high they compete with noon,
tell your story so well no one will pick up a fork or spoon,
live so loud every word is clearly understood at the end of the day.

Always speak of vision, laugh of motion, sing of the twists of fate
that make the hook of the verse sound like a two-word hook from a
ballad by Dylan.

Repeat your tales often, before the meal is served, before the commotion
of clattering silver against hot corning ware diving for the medium-red
slices of steaming roast beef. Don’t let gossip or the office chatter keep
you from what matters; and let the story rest as the final course on
the family table pyramid piled just before laughter.

Sometimes you will feel lucky, sometimes the tale is perfectly woven,
sometimes you have to dig for details, sometimes the word is perfectly chosen,
sometimes you stutter, sometimes the butter is served fresh out of the
icebox. The story takes an immediate station break, waiting for someone
to soften the margarine a round or two in the microwave.

Sometimes it is utterly beyond your control, the events occurred before you
every sat to table. Sometimes, wonderfully, like the flutter of
butterfly clouds
no one can take their eyes off the words as the story weaves around
the aunts and uncles, cousins and babies; and no one ever forgets

The reason you started to speak that day.