Easter 7; John 17:20-26
I drove to church along the ridge of hills.
The valley spread out arms to greet the town;
the distant sea rose up to meet the sky;
the curve of earth reversed to form a bowl
in which light poured and colour overflowed.
There I was drenched in brightness, lit within.

But then, as corners turned, the bush prevailed,
pale glowing trunks, striped shadows on the road.
The leaves that danced seemed hand in hand with sky;
they juggled light and married it with shade.
I wished that I could stop and walk alone,
or with First Nations’ guides who know the ways
of bush and birds and creatures, and the tales
that show how Spirit impregnates the land.

The church upon the ridge reveals that truth,
with valley views and presences of trees,
fresh songs and paintings, and the altar graced
by grey and silver patterning of leaves,
a healing vision of indigenous art.

Now at the altar we, with outstretched hands,
commune with presence, Christ in bread and wine, 
and Spirit in the artist’s healing leaves,
in sea and sky, in bush and birds in flight.
Creator in creation, Christ in us,
connect in mutual love that makes us one.
Embracing difference, shadows dance with light,
and matter mates with Spirit to be whole.
	Barbara Messner 26/05/2022 

2 thoughts on “Communion

  1. Truly exquisite. This makes me think that you must create a book so that these poems do not pass through in a day but people can hold and return to them.


  2. Thanks Maren. By the end of this year, I will have written poems for the readings of the 3 years of the lectionary, and hope to assemble them into a book. In the meantime, that project sometimes limits what I write about. Some of my better poems have a starting point other than Scripture. It was freeing in this one to start from a response to nature, and find the connection back to worship and the gospel.


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