Thursday, 22 June 2006

I wear your ring

with memory strong
and clear;
stronger than a link
with your past,
my present
holds your life and love.

I wash my hands
and feel it there;
it sometimes seems that I am you
and that you are still.
I raise my hand
with silent shock
at the sight of your finger;
I am not you and yet
you remain
in memory and chromosome
and intangible touch.

I take and eat
the bread and wine
given by Another,
tasting and touching
beyond time,
memories brought to birth
of life before my own.
Tasting love, touching grace;
a life and grief
observed, redeemed.

I wear your ring;
I bear his name.