Holy Saturday

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The moon peers back not through the fog
Wakefulness is not granted,
the dream lingers on
like the aftertaste of a bitter lager
But the candle is lit
The table is set
And the feast is laid
Lamb, bread and wine
Flesh and blood intertwined
His life for mine
One for the many.

Hands passing along the cutlery
the breaking of bread
Eyes inwards, upwards and sidelong
As cups are raised to lips
Murmured thanksgivings.
Whispered encouragement.
Throaty laughter.
Songs bursting from bosoms.
The excited patter of tiny feet
As child gambols about with child.

Lift up your hearts!
It is the time between the dying and the rising.
Morning is not far off
The Son comes again
arrayed in glory.
Remember. Eat. Drink. Live.

© BK.