Sunday, September 1, 2013

Under the altar

I remember when I first came back to St. Mark's in 2007 it was difficult to figure out where to sit.   I tried out many different pews.  I filled in as supply priest for a couple services.  Now I have a counseling office almost directly below the altar, next to Parents' Day Out, down the hall from the choir room, across from the vesting sacristy.  I have a window that opens and shuts and is half above ground/half underground.  I am anchored here.  Finally I am anchored.  Under the altar.  I am home.

I am anchored
Under the altar now,
Next to children singing Jesus loves me.
I am moored
Down the hall from the choir.
They practice to sing
Upstairs in the loft.
I hold the windowsill.
Outside my window
Jesus sits on a bench,
Draws pictures in pencil
In the shade
Of the heat of the day.
He sits in the shadow
Of the crooked pine.
I am anchored
Under the altar.
Footsteps above me
Walk to communion.
They echo
In this space
Under the altar.
I hear what happens
Underneath it all,
Down the hall.
I grab the windowsill,
Watch what happens
Outside on a bench
In the shade,
In the shadow,
Of the crooked pine.
Jesus sits there.

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