Leaven, Part One


Transfigured from within, though I don’t know
The moment when the sponge infused the dough.
It must have happened, though, because I see
The end result, as different as can be
From flattened lump I mixed not long ago.

Exposure to the yeast began, first slow
‘Til I divided and commenced to throw
And knead each piece, and then to watch all three
Transfigured from within.

Was it the pounding, shaping, every blow
I worked into each batch that made it grow?
Or was it just the presence or degree
Of leaven in my pastry that was key
To making lifeless mass now overflow--
Transfigured from within.


Leaven, Part Two


Transfigured from within, this lump of clay
But not because I made myself obey.
Instead, the difference that I see outside
Came when that kingdom started to reside
Inside my soul, as I believed the Way.

I cannot tell you minute, hour, or day
When leaven from Above suffused to stay.
I only know that I’ve been modified,
Transfigured from within.

Was it the pounding pain that made me pray?
The kneading, shaping, Holy interplay?
Or was it just the presence, amplified,
Of Word expanding where my old man died?
This loaf, when proofed, those workings will display:
Transfigured from within.