Slow Rise: A Poem

Somebody once asked me, “What is

the eternal value of baking bread?”

Where is the longevity of the briefest moment?

What is the profit of a moving breath?

The flavors interwoven like delicate threads

Refreshing the air like white eyelet curtains

We close our eyes, we fold our hands

and knead out the anxiety as we lift our heads.

Here, now,

Waving in the sun-bathed scent of tall grass

And the pastures murmuring with bovine contentment;

The hills clustered together and sprawling apart,

White puff clouds peeling back like a tea towel

To let in sun heat, letting our souls rise,

Slowly, pulling together the flavors of childhood,

Breathing in the aroma of dreams and hope 

Here, now,

We sit together and break bread, 

Pulling apart at the oneness, stretching out

Empty hands, and filling hungry spirit-bellies

For a taste of salvation, a taste of new life again.