Supper of the Lamb

i kneel 

hands clasped before me

poised on a precipice with my soul outstretched

tossed by winds beyond my control 

I hold the bread to steady myself

to feel it crumble in my hands

fill my mouth

open my eyes 

a secret Messaiah

a Lord enthroned

I cling to the cup

grounded out beyond myself

uprooted and raw

swept up 

transfixed

and just a little out of breath