A Warm Welcome

I held his hand with trepidation;

or is it fear and trembling they call it?

I watched his face as he found a seat.

What will he think of the feast I have prepared? 

of the table I have dressed before his enemies,

of the water I have drawn from the water-pot outside the hut.

I held his gaze with a smile in my eyes

my lips clamped together, firm.

He sat and nodded.

My heart leaped for the nod could mean anything

good or bad yet I prayed for good.

'You are welcome' I intone, leading

'my house is not as beautiful as this, 

as cool as this and your water —?'

He picked the cup to his lips 'sweet'.

In the moment of my welcome, 

I felt like a queen rolling in her high chair,

for he had given me a warm welcome.

____

Abasiama Udom is an emerging writer with works in Still Point Literary Magazine, Sandy River Review with others forthcoming. She tweets @AneuPoet