Yesterday's Gospel tells us that after the miracle of multiplying loaves and fishes, the leftovers filled 12 baskets. It's always interesting to me what details leap out at me as we travel through the Lectionary. One year, I couldn't stop thinking about those 12 baskets.
So, of course, I wrote a poem. It appeared in qarrtsiluni. You can read it here; hearing me read it is also an option.
We gathered twelve baskets of leftovers,
and then we confronted a new crisis:
what do with all the food left behind?
We slapped together fish sandwiches for all the weary
travelers. We made to-go bags
for everyone with hungry
families at home. We made sure the boy
got his investment back and then some.
We still had several baskets.
We made a picnic for ourselves.
And then Martha stepped forward.
With her old family recipe, she baked
pan after pan of bread pudding.
Some people gathered to talk mystical
theology. The rest of us helped
Martha clean up the kitchen. We wallowed
in dessert and fellowship. We celebrated
sweetness, the important life lesson.
feeling the feelings…
1 year ago