A Consecration
Arms extended to heaven, he raises the chalice,
The silver family heirloom,
The one bequeathed to him by his priest uncle.
Fingers cradle the priceless cup,
The vessel that contains the Precious Blood.
Pointed directly towards the heavenly throne
The open mouth
Of the chalice
Of the priest
Of the people gathered
Readies to catch the liquid gold
As it overflows its sacred tabernacle,
The pierced heart of the Christ
Releases its nectar.
He stands, vulnerable, arms outstretched above his head,
In imitation of the Wounded One?
Hanging on the cross.
Yet in his hands he aims a cup,
That fills with every drop of lifeblood
Streaming from the Savior.
Not a single drop stains his linen garment.
For the cup of his soul must be filled to the brim
And overflow upon the faithful gathered.
A moment in time,
In eternity, passes……..
Were others aware of the stream flowing?
Was he?
Once inebriated, does it matter
So long as my cup overfloweth?
Stacy Peterson
May 23, 2013
