Just going to church, nothing more,
When ritual intervenes.
I’m today’s lay assisting minister,
Donning the white robe,
Encircled in cotton rope,
Waiting to carry the cup.
The pastor lifts a wafer, placing a
Circle of grain into each
Supinated hand.
“This is the body of Christ,
Given for you.”
It starts like this.
I follow, offering a brass cup
Half-filled with crimson wine.
“This is the blood of Christ, shed for you.”
The communicant dips the wafer,
Places it on her tongue.
It ends like this.
Leaving the rail, she pushes up on the wood,
Returns to her pew.
Alongside priests, incense, chanting,
Icons, mystics, shamans,
Visions, temples, mosques,
Candles, sutras,
We breathe together,
Alive in the immediate.