I WAS THERE

They came for the holy meal,
the preacher 
and his friends.
He was known for his stories,
his wisdom, 
known to be a healer.

I was the serving girl
standing by the door,
watching to see
what was needed.

I heard what he said.
I will never forget
what he said.

When he broke the bread,
passed pieces to his friends,
he told them to eat it,
that it was his body.

I know it was bread -
I saw Miriam baking it.
I smelled it.
I brought it to them.

But this man said it was his body,
his own body, which would be 
given up for them.

Given up - what did that mean?
I could see the men believed him,
but I could also see
they did not understand.

At the end of dinner
he took his cup of wine,
blessed it, gave thanks,
told all of them to drink from it.

He said it was his blood,
his own blood that would be 
poured out for many - 
a covenant, a sacred promise
between him and all of them.
He even looked at me.
A promise to me.

They looked at each other,
looked at the cup, 
then drank from it, all of them.

When they had gone 
I gathered the bowls
and the cups.
I tried to taste
what was in his cup.
I licked the rim.
I held that cup
till Miriam came
and took it from me.

Later she told me
she had to pry each of my fingers
from the cup.
I don't remember that.

I remember running,
running, running
to tell my mother.

My mother is old.
She goes to temple and prays.
When I told her of the holy meal
and what the preacher said
she looked at me
and slowly something came into 
her face, her eyes.
It looked like - hope.


			Lucille Murphy