broken {Holy Thursday}

A few days ago I started thinking about whether I wanted to do something special on my blog for the Easter Triduum. And I got the crazy idea to write a poem for each day of the Triduum. I am no poet, so I know that these are imperfect examples of poetry, but my aim is not to produce a “good” poem. My aim is reflection and prayer.

So I’ve posted today, and I will post on Good Friday and sometime on Saturday afternoon, before the Vigil celebration of Easter. The theme for all these pieces, as you will see by the title, is “broken” and what that looked like on each of the days of the Triduum.

 

All eyes turn to You
as silence fills the room,
silence brought on by tiredness
from full stomachs
and minds clouded by wine.
Your friends, who hang
on Your every word, watch Your face
and wait for Your next move. They have
eaten this meal with You so many times
before. They know what should come next.

But something feels different about tonight. The silence
is longer.
Heavier.

“I have so wanted to share this Passover
with you, my friends,” You say at last. Your eyes
shine with tears as You reach for the last piece of bread on the table
and as You look upon Your friends.
“For I will not share it again until God’s Kingdom is fulfilled.”

You raise the bread to Heaven to bless it,
then break it and begin passing it. “Take this bread and
eat it. This is my body; do this and remember me.”

Eyes begin to widen with confusion. This isn’t
how the meal usually ends.

You then take a cup of wine, raise and bless it.
“Take this wine and drink; it is my blood, spilled for
your salvation. Do this and remember me.”

“How can these be Him? He is standing right here
with us,” some begin to whisper.

But others receive the bread and wine with
hushed, reverent understanding
that to love is to be broken.
For only when something is broken
is it ready to be given.

to love is to be broken

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