Partakers of His Sufferings Till He Come

by Marlene Brubacher

This is His body. Peasant’s bread we break,
King’s wine we pour, the mystery we taste.
Here is the love by which we all are fed;
Here is the radiancy from feasts on high
Interpreted, and only for our sake;
For us the fount, for us the grace on grace.
We need the life, we need the common meal,
The backward look that tells us how to die.

This is our Body. Here we take our part
By stooping at a basin with a towel;
By promising to come, to touch, to give.
We choose the bodying forth, the broken heart,
We choose the servant garb, the bending low,
The forward look that schools us how to live.

Marlene R. Brubacher rescues abandoned books, defends the Oxford comma, and grows poems.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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