by J-T Kelly
When Christ is all in all, Everything turns to bread. Christ falls. He falls. He falls. In the dead, Christ lies dead. In the living, Christ lives. Christ gives. He gives. He gives. We starve. Alive or dead, We won’t carve our own bread. Our own flesh, our own blood Goes bad like manna hid: Tomorrow’s hoard and hedge, Tonight’s untrusting clutch. The dead can eat so much. But Christ in neighbors asks, “I’m hungry, give me bread.” And Christ’s heart in us cracks. We see our neighbors fed On what falls out from us: Broken clay, broken bread, Blood, tears, repentance, dust... They feed on our bleeding — We feed on their feeding. We all live who were dead. We fall, we give, we fall. When Christ is all in all, Everything turns to bread.
J-T Kelly is an innkeeper in Indianapolis, Indiana. He lives in a brick house with his wife, five small children, his two parents, and a dog.