We break this bread; and then the crack

Like bones that snap or gunfire lead.

It fractures air; a fissured tear

In this expectant space.

*

Now in breaking there the sight;

In split flits light. The host is making

Wings to wear; our freedom here

Bought by extravagant grace.

*

Now befriended at this table

I am able to be mended.

For by Love’s death we find life’s breath;

This is a healing place.

*

And ragged edge is handed round,

The only sound a soft Amen.

This bread we share; what feast compares

With love that we can taste?

*

(C) Susannah Underwood Passiontide 2019