At the end of the night
There is no monument
At the end of the night
There is a table
I wrote it back then
Between two escapes
You prepare a table before me
In the presence of my enemies
I meant
They have to watch
While I eat
I did not know
One would come
Who turns the word further
The table always stood
In the presence of enemies
Now one word turns
One single word
They are not watching anymore
They are taking their seats
On the evening of the third day
Two sat at a table in Emmaus
With a stranger
And when he broke the bread
Their eyes were opened
And they recognized him
And at the lake
In the first light
A charcoal fire burned on the shore
He was denied
Beside a charcoal fire
He feeds
Beside one
The one we abandoned
Stood at the fire
Cooking breakfast
For deserters
For a sword-drawer
For a man who said No
Three times
Come and eat
The table always stood
In the presence of enemies
Now one word turns
One single word
They are not watching anymore
They are taking their seats
So the ladder ends
Not strangers anymore
Not guests on probation
Household members
The direction of the story
Was never the drain
It was always the table
Where everything
Is set in its place
And every place
Carries a name
Coals on the pot
Not under it
And bread
Warming above the coals
The night had watchers
The garden had lanterns
The grave had guards
The morning has a table
And the hands that break the bread
Carry scars
And break it
For the ones
Who made the scars
Come and eat
Come and eat
Alex · Quellenbeziehungen