/ dawn and the breaking and sharing of bread /

I do not have the weakest courage,
to slide my tired body into the night,
trusting, in my own ability
to quiet its head–
that has heads of its own–
but in your resounding hush
and peaceful glow.

I keep my very least composure
weighted, under covered,
to not disturb.

But you are still the same,
thinning
into the cool air
into the cover.

Grant us
therefore, gracious Lord,
so to eat the flesh of your dear Son–
once perforated with the anguish and the fear
that have met the darkest–

and to drink his precious blood–
once fogged up with the sorrow and abandonment
that led to death–

that our torment may be joined
by his weary body,
and our agony washed
through his drained-out blood.

And that
we may
evermore,
dwell in Him
and He
in us.

The sun rose up
and entered from the right.