by Pavel Chichikov
Silent tabernacle, mind, flesh and blood
Do bless unvoiced, speak although unfaced,
Burn unmelting, flame by neither wax nor wood
To chalice and to platter held confined,
You draw the cloak of space around your bolt
And this we see as form, baked meal and wine
You mark our inexpressive faces from within,
Above, beside, all through Your sacrifice
That by unspeakable mutation of Your flesh we are unsinned
And so if I stay here, the chapel chamber
Folds around Your face, your lightning form
That struck the soul but once and out of danger
Catch lightning, hold, or be alone and pray,
It is the same as if a stroke self-held at bay
Had hovered overhead, beside, would stay
(Pavel's Websites are at The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov and Catholic Images by Pavel Chichikov.)
