This is the body
Of Christ, said Sister
James; I hold it now
Between fingers like
A sacred gem. My
Mother doubted the
Essence, said it was
Just bread, that any
More was just notions
In my childish head.
I feel the crispness,
See the whiteness, sense
The hidden Christ with
In the host. Father
Would hold his before
His eyes, then kiss it
Softly before he
Placed it in his mouth
And closing his eyes.
Mother said it was
All a magic trick
And a cartful of
Lies. I place the Christ
Upon my tongue, let
His presence be felt,
Sensing through the nerves
Of my being, His
Sacrifice, His pain
And hurt, His cruel
Crucifixion and
High resurrection
(Mother said it was
All fancy fiction)
Coming together
On my fleshy tongue,
Dissolving there, then
Gone, entering me,
Fulfilling, being
There, lifting me up,
To be, to love, to
Share. Mother would say,
Doubt it if you dare,
It’s just a sham, just
A con. When she was
Dying, ridden with
Cancer, I saw Christ
By her bedside sit,
Looking sadly on.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC
This is the body
Of Christ, said Sister
James; I hold it now
Between fingers like
A sacred gem. My
Mother doubted the
Essence, said it was
Just bread, that any
More was just notions
In my childish head.
I feel the crispness,
See the whiteness, sense
The hidden Christ with
In the host. Father
Would hold his before
His eyes, then kiss it
Softly before he
Placed it in his mouth
And closing his eyes.
Mother said it was
All a magic trick
And a cartful of
Lies. I place the Christ
Upon my tongue, let
His presence be felt,
Sensing through the nerves
Of my being, His
Sacrifice, His pain
And hurt, His cruel
Crucifixion and
High resurrection
(Mother said it was
All fancy fiction)
Coming together
On my fleshy tongue,
Dissolving there, then
Gone, entering me,
Fulfilling, being
There, lifting me up,
To be, to love, to
Share. Mother would say,
Doubt it if you dare,
It’s just a sham, just
A con. When she was
Dying, ridden with
Cancer, I saw Christ
By her bedside sit,
Looking sadly on.
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