Sacred Seat: a Chair's Tale

The first thing that I recall knowing As a sturdy and young olive tree Extremely well rooted and growing Was the sweltering sunlight on me For two centuries I took deep root To prepare for my ultimate fate So when I could no longer bear fruit There was then but a decade to wait I was cut—left to dry for ten years So that seasoned I’d perfectly be For what the carpenter engineers For admirers my beauty to see Finally, the time came to carve me Into the stout piece that would bear The One who came down from His glory I’d become a rough-hewn olive chair Into the great city I traveled The same city once fated for doom Through alleys, then up a steep stairway I was put in a small upper room Beside the simple wooden table I was placed in center position Where the King who was born in a stable Sat prepared to accomplish His mission He prayed and broke bread with His brothers As a symbol of what He would do He blessed it then passed to the others As His body; ’twas "broken for you" Then to signify His precious blood The red wine from the cup He did sip So that it could cleanse as a flood As from nail wounds it later would drip To this day, I still can remember How it felt when Christ Jesus did rest I sensed that His love was so tender Even when He was put to the test He said, “Father, Father, forgive them” As He faced His long prophesied death The love for all things He had poured out As He uttered His very last breath Today, the risen Lord I remember Whose story has long since been told As I sit in the same dusty chamber And recall that Last Supper of old * Placed 1st in Deborah Guzzi's contest, "The Chairs Tale"