A Tragic Potluck

This poem was written for me by my brother Curtis in response to a No on Prop 8 commercial I had posted on my face book. That thread received comments of views from both sides.  A majority of my siblings and their children support Yes on Prop 8, which if passed will eliminate the right of same sex couples to marry in the state of California. I believe this proposition to be unjust and wrong, so I've become a public advocate for upholding the current law. I'm not the only person in my family voting no, I just happen to be openly gay person of the family. And because of that I've been accused of rubbing my beliefs in others faces, and not respecting or showing love for my family. That is untrue. I love my family and I'm not ashamed of who I am. I love this poem and am forever thankful that it was written. Enjoy and may we all learn to embrace diversity and acceptance.

A Tragic Potluck

On the first Sunday of every month my family eats together.

It's really just our excuse to sit and be together.

We cook in the morning then bring our own dish,

Then around 6 around the table we sit,

And every first Sunday it is always said,

"My what a beautiful spread"...

The table is filled with foods of all sorts,

Which mirror the faces in our family of course,

Some dishes I love some I won't taste,

And that's fine with me because I make my own plate,

But every first Sunday it's in everyones head,

"My what a beautiful spread"

I wonder if other families are lucky as we?

Who can enjoy such culinary variety?

Who can taste the cuisine from the islands or the far-east,

And even enjoy amazing European treats...

The sweet yams from the south that come out almost red,

"My what a beautiful spread"

So many beautiful dishes there's always more than enough,

All prepared with care and an armful of love,

Everyone so different and so innately unique,

I wonder if other families feel like this when they eat?

Cause as we say our own graces and bow our heads

We all say,

"Thank you for the beautiful spread"

How sad an event if one day things had to change.

And every dish we made was exactly the same,

Would we be so excited to sit down for this feast,

If everyone decided to bring the same thing?

Could we look on our table and could it be said.

"My what a beautiful spread"

My family is a potluck where everyone is their own dish,

And that we are healthy and happy is my only wish,

That we are unique and different and never ashamed,

Of the dish that I know we worked so hard to make,

May we always laugh and play and dance and sing,

And understand the joy and bliss that each of us brings,

May the table that we eat on always stand up,

On the legs of happiness and foundation of love...

Cause when I look at my beautiful family

It's hard for a tear not to shed,

"My what a beautiful spread..."

-ccc