Image by Leandro De Carvalho from Pixaby
Holy Thursday
Arrange the table, prep the meal
A few more grains descend
Lean in close t’ward sweet reveal
Oh, sacrament, begin
Sing and pray, then take some rest
While blood drops fall as sand
Upon this field of violence
Of combat, soul and hand
Then follow on, yet stand apart
Beware the watchful eye
Acidic lies slide off the tongue
While fading hours slip by
But morning's call doth break the spell
Confront thy sin . . . and cry
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