SACRAMENT
The body of Christ
is torn, scraped, beaten,
bloody and dirty.

The body of Christ is wrapped,
laid in the dark,
hidden behind stone.

The body of Christ,
placed in my hand,
is small, clean, brittle.
In my mouth
it is dry, bland.
In my soul
it is vital.

The blood of Christ
tastes like wine,
at once sweet
and bitter.

The body and blood of Christ
have made of me 
a tabernacle.

		
      Lucille Murphy