TheCup

Finger wrapped steam
curls toward wood
beams, this
holy morning fragrance
mingled with words and some tears
and
knit brows
and
shoulder shaking
gold

Lives, lots,
portions in earthen
containers and
hers
seems more like
folds of linen this morning and she asks where is Jesus in that moment and
how can I be right there and
love

We drink the brown drink and
share her cup and hers
her lonely,
her overwhelm, her edges and remember
she has come far
and so has
she

In late morning we drink from red thimble with
blessed others, creased foreheads pressed
in circle and whisper holy, holy, holy
and drink and
remember
the suffering and his cup when he cried
Lord, if possible, take this
from me
and we gulp his pain straight down, and it is
our glory and our release and our
hope and
mystery

We drink from cup and time curls like steam and we
belong to each one and we are
his

holy, holy, holy

___________________

Joining with Nacole at Six in the Sticks for Concrete Words. Today began with the prompt The Cup.

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