No Poisoned Chalice
A Poem for the Feast of Corpus Christi
Do this, he told us,
to fuel remembering
he made a present
of the transfigured future
in mundane token
He knocked the scaffold
of proud heritage away
incorporating
Hope so that hardened magma
was inspired to melt
Fellowship was good
dipping bread together in
herb-tinctured unction
sipping the same sanguine cup
Love's Grace abounding
We'd hone our purpose
re-enacting these shared times
communion scenes
would stiffen our endeavour
to see Rome remove
its heel from our necks
Caesar's laurels bite the dust
monuments fall; the
Eternal City laid waste
foreign rulers done
That was then; how dim
our understanding of him
Earth did not bind him
stone was already shattered
the stakes raised higher
Former things were gone
We were past death and dying
He'd been there, done that
on our behalf; we lived now
in him, he in us
The rate of exchange
was wondrously outlandish
the currency, dough
fired in the kiln, and fruit
of the blood-fed vine
At one, all savour
this new future perfect feast
earnest of our will
now no mortal wasted crumb
no poisoned chalice.
Poem from Jericho Rose, Songs from the Wilderness (collection in preparation).