Is that your wish, then?
To break bread, as they say,
in the clearing
at the end of the path?

You wanted the words of Christ
in red,
and they were written in blood
across these lands.

So if two or three are gathered
in your name,
who is there
in their midst?

No matter.
Sins of the father
need not pass on,

and grace is still sufficient.

As I’ve seen two or three
broken by a word
or by deceit or by things unsaid,
I’d yet give some years of my life
to have them all here;
aye, to have you all here…

You’d be surprised how much you forget,
how it all falls away like rain
off a barn roof,

if you’d stop to find yourselves
again, close as you can,
in your mother’s kitchen,
in the field with your dog,

or sharing a basket
in sunfall
under the cottonwood.

So then,
will ya not wait for me,
and I for you?