Every year it’s the same
Same food, same drinks, same people
The same tired placemats and utensils
The same seating arrangement
I walk up to the table
Looking across the candlelit expanse I see
Seats for fathers and married women
Seats for accomplished children and veteran grandparents
It feels like I am always stuck in this moment
Walking up to the table
Looking for my seat
Looking and finding that I have none
“Next year you can sit with us!” they say
“Just sit at the kids’ table one more year”
But it’s always just one more year
But it’s always empty promises
I’m left without hope
I’m left with so many questions
When is it my turn to get a seat at the table?
When do I get a chance to be heard?