The Eucharist’s Rule of Thumb

February 11, 2021

The snickering blade draws a fine, sharp smile

across the wrinkled surface of my thumb,

and the bread I pursued with all my guile

turns real, running flesh and blood. Numb

with pain, I watch and wait as dark wells in

and out. The gash is deeper than I thought,

and in its lawless, honest shadow thin,

I almost see my life (soaking in) brought

out in stark relief—but how fearfully

with pain I watch and wait between the beats!

Not much can dull that dear old shame I see

in broken bread and bleeding thumb, yet meets

me in a moment of laughter later on

to match the smile my knife had deftly drawn.

1 Comment

  1. Libby

    This is… so good. I’m in awe of your word choice and the depth of your message.


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