a poem

I don’t eat bread these days
Lord,
too many carbs, alas
for my
hungry soul, testing my self-control,

Lord,
these prayers
standardized affairs,
generic
stamped approved
for daily consumption,

My soul
craves bread
spiritual
mystical
organic and original
if you are
Oh Lord, made flesh in bread
then you will kill me
eventually,

I suppose
if bread is sewn
grown
reaped and ground
then my soul
may be processed into something
more profound
more
nourishing…

Lord
only humans have human ears
human fears,
like bread
we baked our beliefs
over time
standing under an endless sky
at night
we formed our awe into the divine.

Chris