Bread, it’s crumbling ways over
our fingers weighs heavier
than when we opened the oven
and lifted out the loaf for this meal
together at our table, now
Your table.
Wine, its bitterness leaving behind itself
a gentle warmth of flowers and morning
brightness of fruit that awakens yearning
despite the alcohol bite. And so we yearn
for You, Jesus, mourning Your absence
with gladness of wine.
Simple. Plain. Nourishing all
the way into our bones and marrow,
heart and soul, through our hands
into hands held in prayer. King Jesus,
brother Jesus, friend Jesus dwelling
amidst our bodies, our cups, our morsels.