My Easter Pome

Good Friday

My first communion, my Easter duty
my confirmation to the body of Christ...
all these were errors of the adult mind,
whereas I was an incense addict, who,
with hands folded in simple faith,
prayed to see Jesus in the pew next to me.

Catholic rites and philosophy were
lost among my childhood visions
when I asked the statues of Mary and Joseph
to blink their eyes and move with me.
This was magic no less than the risen flesh,
the driven nails and the pierced breast.
It dazzled my mind with miracles and
I believed I held God in my tiny hand,
walked with him in the halls at school,
spoke to him on the swings in the park.

Now I believe I hold him in my palm,
his weight immense as the universe,
as light as the palms of the Easter parade.
Daily contact is my first communion;
he does not command my Easter duty
but lays on me a constant vigil
and asks of me a simple faith
to see Jesus at the table next to me.