FicWad

You must walk up to the altar,
Taking slow, measured steps-
If you wish, you can meditate
On the Supper, the Crucifixion
The painted Christ that hangs
Above you, the sanguine smears
On hands, feet, brow.

We must all wait for grace.

As you approach the Bread of Life,
Left hand over right, cupped
With all due reverence,
A tiny chalice of hands, waiting.
'Body of Christ,' you say 'Amen,'
Lifting the Bread that is the Body
To your lips, placing it gently
On your tongue. Do not chew Jesus.

Touch hand to brow, heart, left and right shoulders.

Then is time for the Blood, the Wine.
Sip gently, 'Blood of Christ,' 'Amen.'
Now you may think of redemption,
Of painted blood flowing into a chalice,
Sins washed away. Try, if you will
To detect a bitter hint of copper
Buried under the grape sweetness.

Again, the brow, the heart, the shoulders.

Do not stop walking-
Religious ecstasy disturbs the Mass.
If you must indulge, it is proper to wait
And kneel at your seat, quiet, contemplative.
At this point, you may surrender to visions,
See the dead body hanging limply,
The blood congealing, the spirit absent.

Reflect on what this means.