Communion Hands - A Sonnet


My faith for one whole year, it was your hands,

The priests of my heart’s peace, when they with bells

That peeled, passed through the ranks of choired stands

In fleeting brief communion with mine own.

Far greater than the Father’s vital hands -

By which our father Adam first felt life -

Were yours, such catholic hands that cooly gave

To me sustaining weekly meat and drink.

The congregations’ common sets of palms

Wrought nought except by force to heat mine own,

And ’twas a heat that I would quick disown,

Just like th’ ephemeral metrics of the psalms.

They were a purgatory that staved off you,

Til meeting, I might say, ‘Peace be with you.’

#poetry #Oxford #Writing #Religion #Church