Communion with My Ancestors
The priest and the boy
process across the fields,
while in the house a woman waits
filled with awe that the Son of God
should at the ringing of a bell stoop
to enter her home.
In the city the migrant
workers stream from the tenements,
and taking comfort
from the familiar words of home,
cradle Christ in their outstretched hands.
I watch from a distant land,
and in my mind’s eye see
the enraptured expression of the woman,
the fervent faces of the workers and wonder
with what sense of sacrilege
they would view me
as I take the bread
and break it.
Sally Long is studying for a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Exeter and edits Allegro Poetry Magazine.