Holy Thursday

 
The Last Supper
 
Leaving is never easy. 
It seems I've just begun.
How can they possibly be ready?
For this last song to be sung.
 
Yet, if I stay they will never grow. 
I did prepare them well.
One more bite of bread, another sip of wine.
Then one of my own, my life will sell.
 
What can I leave them? How will they know me?
All they will have left is a crumb.
Yet, in the remnant, there I'll be. 
Waiting for those who come. 
 
Is this what it's come down to?
A sigh, a kiss, and, oh, the pain
Then one last breath 
And, Abba God, I am home again.
 
This cross cannot be the end.
But only the beginning.
On life my death must turn.
For them a fortune winning.

 

Do this in memory of me,
Become unbroken.
Find Compassion.
Share our bread.
Make peace.
Awaken.
Forgive.
Be gift.
Bless.
Heal.
Love.
Live.
be
Do life in memory of me.
 
By Barbara Zeman
© 2015