It lies nestled in my hand,This white Host,
For precious seconds as we measure time.
During that infinitesimal moment,
Gazing at It, I firmly believe
Christ, whole and entire--
Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity--
Rests on my palm, and
I am Mary, Virgin-Mother,
Caressing her Newborn;
A sinner, clutching His robe;
Martha, preparing a meal,
Magdalene, bathing His dusty feet,
Veronica, wiping His dear,weary face.
I am myself, weak, needy, yearning
For union with Him.
"Come, Beloved, come!"
And kissing the Host, I receive Him.
from Justitia, Poetry from the Second Annual OPrize for Poetry
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