The Last Supper
- zizipho bam
- Jun 14, 2016
- 1 min read
What happens when nobody says Amen. The food has run out at the table. Kitchen is a hurricane. How are you still smiling in this mess? The alter is a disaster. I have washed my hands with contaminated water. Grandmother said never to rush when you eat. To chew slowly and indulge in the food. I have swallowed my patience. Grace was left half way. The prayer is the half burning candle. Someone is choking over the body of Christ. The fire at the center of the room is dying. Our laughter hangs from the ceiling as nostalgic as our hallelujah. What becomes of us when nobody closes their eyes or bows their heads. This night’s supper becomes a sacrifice. Our insides hang on the crucifix. This house has not been marked with the blood of the lamb.
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