The road is heavy and long with questions and sorrows.

I try to tell the story myself to the stranger walking beside me.

“Don’t you know?” I say (incredulously).

“Know what?” He asks.

“What has happened! The pain. The injustice. The craziness of it. The impossibility of it.” I answer (emphatically).

“The utter lostness it brings me to,” I think but don’t say.

A pause from Him.

A kindly raised eyebrow.

An infinite heartbeat pulsing.

“Don’t you know?” He says.

“Know what?” I ask (foolish and slow of heart and terribly small-minded).

“Listen,” He invites. “We’ll go back. Back to the beginning. I think you’ll see things differently soon.”

The story lives and breathes

Beside me

Above me

Before me

Inside me.

My heartbeat warms all of me as it begins to align with the story.

With blood pumping and feet aching, it’s my turn to invite.

“Please stay. Please sit and rest,” I beg.

“I feel better with you here,” I think but don’t say.

I hand Him the bread

And He prays with an up-turned face and authority in His voice and love written all over His hands.

“So be it.”

The prayer ends, and those love-ly hands break the bread.

I need the nourishment of the bread after the drain of the day, and eagerly accept it from Him.

I raise it to my mouth, but before I take a bite, I allow the essence of it to fill me.

The yeast, the wheat,

The words…

This is His body broken for me.

I can hardly stand to raise my eyes, but I have to.

He is already watching me

Smiling slightly and kindly

And those love-ly hands held the bread that I am holding to my mouth,

And I don’t know what to do.

“Eat, beloved. You need it,” He says.

And I know.

I know that I need it, but it feels like I need it too desperately to eat it.

The bread is in my mouth, and I chew.

The swallow almost makes me choke over its beauty and its ugly, and my throat aches from the lump in it.

I am filled with everything that I could possibly hold and more.

I look to Him.

But He has gone, leaving just the torn loaf of bread in his place.

I swallow down the rest of my bread.

An infinite heartbeat pulsing.