Eucharist at Midnight
New Year? Maybe.
But rather a second Christmas.
Oh, the gifts that I received!
The presence of thousands of brothers and sisters —
many of them new to me,
yet all of them bearing the likeness of that Special Someone.
My Lover's Breath —
making my heart sing!
My lips try to imitate with marginal success.
A thousand...a million gifts
that I was made aware of,
but when have I not had them?
All precious, yet...
their sum is nothing next to χριστος, khristós,
"all the fullness of the Deity"
(whisper his name — I am not worthy for even that)
"in bodily form"
(Dare I say that maybe even God had zits?).
New Year? Maybe.
But rather a second Easter.
Oh, the Gift that I received!
I whipped him, mocked him, crucified him;
I gave him death.
He gave me Life.
The Reality is re-experienced in the Sacrificial Feast.
New Year? No!
Rather a new life.
And all my visions of
New Year's Eve dances,
sparkling dresses,
Auld Lang Syne,
long-stemmed glasses filled with fiz,
balloons,
confetti,
turning to kiss that special someone...
all fall away.
Never, never, never
has the New Year meant so little,
has the new year meant so much.
