Sunday, February 20, 2011

Another Poem

The Sacrament

Quiet like the early morning
before others arise
my heart pounds like hands
Kneading and stretching dough.

A cough, a sneeze, a cry
occasionally break the still,
but my mind is elsewhere.

I smell olives, taste unleavened bread
drink wine, listen to His voice.

My eyes water like a mother's
when she sees her newborn babe
as I watch Him praying.

Ten minutes pass before I
realize I'm surrounded by
others who also believe,
and who want to change.

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