faith 

there's hope in Your rising amongst believers

observing You from the rear of a mirror.

Your dark countenance reflects a question

when communicants gather 'round Your Body longing

staring at Elements hiding Your presence.

You're a Man laying cloistered

beside the tears of his lovers

sequestered and submerged

neath their mottled hopes.

Has their faith betrayed them in their wanting

or is waiting the page upon which

the vision of You is made visible?

They hang on to invisible threads

belief throws out into the abyss.

As they gulp You down in bread and wine

is it madness in them

as them march from the gathering

to the struggles of day,

struggles with themselves, their mates, 

their children, their state?

What holds them when the challenge of belief 

meets the commercial world

where the steel-slabs  of curses 

bore their brittle hearts

and they, against the harshness  of fate

break forth to Golgatha

with patience in their gait?

Whatever You model

they have added to with prayers.

What flows from the deep of their lips

is nourishment for the journey ahead.