consecration
the gifts have been brought
to the table.
the bread. the wine.
and me.
He takes the bread
and breaks it.
the cup, He lifts
and blesses.
He pauses before me.
i tremble.
me He does not need to break.
i am already broken.
so many times blessed,
still just ordinary wine.
what can He do
with one such as me?
my head bowed,
my eyes closed,
i am lost in unworthiness.
silently, His servant comes,
laying upon me
the veil of humility.
i feel His hands lift me,
tenderly holding me.
and He does something
so unexpected
it takes my breath away.
He sings to me.
He sings to my heart
the hymn of espousal –
a hymn i have always known
but never heard –
and my heart sings back.
there are no words.
in a piercing moment,
i find myself wedded
to an eternity of wounds.
His wounds.
o Love – my Love –
o sacred Joy unending…
all glory to Him forever.
amen.
+++
On this Feast of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus, please pray for me, dear friends, that I may follow her on the path to holy surrender.
All thanks and praise to God, for His many gifts…
+++
A priceless thing... 
Beautiful, Mary. Thank you. I will keep you in my prayers.
Thanks, MT. You and yours in my prayers as well.
Sometimes I find poems that are like prayers, and very often (very often) prayer from the heart turns out to be poetry. Then there is that simpler poem-prayer, “Thank you,” which can also be just a friendly thank you to one other as we share our lives.
So thank you, Mary, for this special gift. I had to pause here: “me He does not need to break. / i am already broken.” Later I went back to copy those lines. Now the whole poem will encourage me me when I think i shouldnt join the communion line.
P.S. to clarify my last line: I had just read a passage from Julian of Norwich that Fr. Aiden Kimmel posted this morning, and had turned one of its paragraphs into a little poem that helped me understand another issue (suffering) that you wrote about earlier and that I raised questions about. Here’s the poem
ALL THE PAIN ON EARTH
If it were laid in front of us
–all the pain there is on earth,
death and all the rest–
we would choose all that
rather than sin. For sin is
so vile [if we could only see]
that it can be compared with no pain
which is not itself sin,
for a loving soul hates no pain but sin;
for everything is good except sin,
and nothing is evil except sin.
And when by the operation of mercy and grace
we set our intention on mercy and grace,
we are made all fair and spotless,
said Dame Julian of Norwich.
. . . . . . .
And here’s the link to Aidan and Julian: https://afkimel.wordpress.com/2017/10/04/and-this-is-a-supreme-friendship-of-our-courteous-lord-that-he-protects-us-so-tenderly-whilst-we-are-in-our-sins/
Thanks, Al, for both comments. A “found poem”, indeed in St. Julian of Norwich.Thank you for finding and sharing. The white space of the poetic line sometimes helps me read more slowly what I need to carefully digest.
These lines are particularly poignant:
“we would choose all that
rather than sin. For sin is
so vile [if we could only see]”
Only very occasionally has God allowed me to see the true vileness of sin, i.e. my own sin. And I suspect that, even then, He held back some because He knew I wouldn’t be able to take it. It is odd how we can overlook in ourselves things of such consequence…I think this is why I am now writing on “temptation”…