The First Eucharist

They gather round Him, Jesus breaks the bread,

They kneel, they close their eyes, they bow their heads

In reverent silence. Do they understand

The meaning of this meal? Does His command

Do this in memory of me make sense

To these imperfect men whose innocence,

The lack of knowledge is profound? The one

Who’s hiding in the shadows, almost gone,

Clutching a bag of coins that burns his hand —

Perhaps he is the one who understands,

Who feels it most. The others, old and young—

When Jesus quietly says, “Extend your tongue,”—

What do they know, but deep unwavering trust,

A firmly held conviction that they must

Obey His will? They ponder not, instead

Like little children one by one they’re fed

With simple food that purges souls of strife —

The bread that tastes like rain, like snow, like life.

Live for the Love of it,

Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)

Image credit: The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci, public domain