Communion (a psalm of Hambone)
Patrick T. Reardon
Burn tomb.
Seed stump.
Wind, breath, spirit.
Hambone stands his ground
at the gold altar.
Canticle of saints shudders the doors,
stutters the brick walls. Sinews clutch.
Holy wind! Holy breath!
Mourning, he marched
three times under the walls of Troy.
The wind of God over the face of the waters.
Darkness on the face of the deep.
Earth’s salt. City of Cities.
Endless Requiem.
Communion of lost.
Patrick T. Reardon
5.1.26
This poem originally appeared at Book of Matches, Issue 17, on 5.1.26
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.