Body Broken

Holding the box of wine
(intending to pour it into the chalice)
I am momentarily distracted—
the contents gush out
splattering recklessly were they will. . . .

Then, taking the coarse whole grain bread
(ready to share it with my fellow inmates)
I try to part it evenly—
but it breaks raggedly
scattering crumbs onto the dirty earthy floor. . . .

Oh Jesus, your broken body is scattered
your blood colors the earth of our existence
then seeping into the soil of our lives
sprouts new life within us.

—Jonathan Beachy, San Antonio, Texas (writing as prison chaplain)