Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Lost Communion

Once I made a word.  It dropped
From thought to being on my breath,
And stunned to see it live, I stopped,
Hushed, lest I also cause its death.

It faded (words do not live long)--
But ere its form could quite depart,
Another word, not mine, like song
To answering song found my word's heart;
And I could only stare and start.

Clumsily more words found their way
From thought to being, breath to sound;
Like strands of living soul-stuff, they
My soul to each new soul enwound.

Wondrous thing, that souls might touch!
Quicker and quicker came they now,
My words; and marveling that such
A thing might be, I let them flow,
Unhindered yet by why or how.

Could so rare and sweet a brew
Fail ever?  But it did, and does;
Still precious as when it was new,
Communion fades from is to was;

Silence returns, my words have fled,
Finding they have no more to say
Perhaps--or wish not to be said;
And my heart hides itself away,
Lost in a word too plain to say.

1 comment:

  1. Really, really like this one. And I actually think I might understand it, too.

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