How it went
By Patrick T. Reardon
.
It was Amen. Finger in the
dish. Bread, broken. Cup,
given. Blood, flesh.
.
The wind was not empty. The angel knew the score.
.
The kiss, the sword, the healing in torch
shadows.
.
Testimony. The right hand and the torn robe.
Deny, deny, deny — the rooster.
Crucify.
.
Silver planted in the Field of Blood.
Tree grown in the Skull Place.
.
They feared a riot. She feared a dream.
He couldn’t see the point so he put his hands in the dish.
.
Eloi, eloi, lama sabachthani.
.
Was that
the still
small itch
of a sound
that Elijah
heard as
I let go?
.
Patrick T. Reardon
4.15.22
.
This poem was originally published by Calla Press on 3.10.22
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/.