Eucharist in troubled times

For Merinda and Julie

We give you thanks and praise as we recall
the pierced side, the gouging thorns, the flesh
exposed. Naked. Held to ridicule.
You do not shun the public place, the lash
of jeering words. Unshielded, there you hang
alone. Once, years before, a growing boy,
you startled and amazed the gathered throng
of elders – now, this brutal, bloody ploy
to keep their power and influence intact
means they can turn their backs. We meet your gaze
each time our gathered throng meets to enact
our sacrament. We give you thanks and praise
in broken bread, in many rooms or one,
needing no mandate save from God's own Son.

Virtual community

‘Virtual means 

nearly,

but not quite –

in effect,

but not in fact,’

we’re told. 

the virtual has evolved. 

not monstrous AI,

unsettling simulacra

or nerdish coteries

but flickering candles

shaping darkness,

darts of love that pierce 

the covid cloud

reshaping what we mean

by presence, prayer,

community

photons surfing fibres

electrons shifting circuits

link your soul to mine

liquid crystals realign

to show wry smiles

or puzzled frowns

we meet

in real presence

each to each

as quark and lepton 

spin and leap

the Spirit’s dance

Refiner’s fire

O holy fire

burn away the frail paper armour 

of my ego

the fear, the pride, 

the clinging resentments 

and cloying guilt

let it sear, shrink, crumple,

and flake away to ash,

to nothingness

refiner’s fire, reveal

the shy, hidden child,

tottering towards the light of day

daring to be 

the jewel of your treasure,

the one you see

as beautiful