Every Friday during Lent,
in every linoleum-floored diner
in every blue-highwayed town,
The Last Supper is re-enacted.
During the ritual of The Holy
Fish Fry, whoever picks up the check
becomes Jesus.
The flesh of a leviathan haddock
is mystically transformed into
the fragments of a star.
God has kissed the feet
of beggars, and the homeless
suddenly take flight through
the sky like magnolia blossoms.
Life now flows pure as a song,
as smooth and perfect as a dream.
Now, everyone at the table realizes
that the wounds which will not heal
are what makes them whole.
David Kowalczyk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/time-of-amazing-things/
