A ringing church bell

for a young priest

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and a white chasuble lift me

from the dark, disordered world.

The priest genuflects, kisses the altar,

makes the sign of the cross, opens

with prayer.

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We confess….

Lord, have mercy. Glory to God in the Highest.

Old Testament reading, Psalm response, 

New Testament, Gospel, Homily.

Creed. Lord, hear our prayer….

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Offertory hymn and baskets. We give

God’s gifts back to Him. (Where else

would we get them?)

The Lord be with you…. 

Lift our hearts. Holy. Holy. Holy….

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The mystery of faith.

The priest is Jesus on His altar:

Both Victim and Victor are one.

He prays, speaking toward Bread and Cup,

lifts Holy Transubstantiating Sacrament.

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No longer bread and wine,

Jesus is Eucharist; Eucharist is Jesus.

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Saints and angels descend.

Cherubim. Seraphim. Seven other choirs.

The Church Militant and the Church

Triumphant sing with Heavenly Hosts.

Love beckons: Light in a world of darkness.

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I hunger to eat Jesus’ Body, to drink His Blood.

Lord, I am not worthy…

but only say the Word, and my soul shall be healed.

I look into the eyes of Jesus as He hangs dying,

loving me from His cross.

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The priest places the Body of Christ

on my tongue. Spirit in me

believes the Amen! even when lips forget

to proclaim it. My guardian angel

touches my shoulder as I pray.

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I move from kneeler to pew rapt, open my eyes,

stand, wait to be blessed. Air rushes in

through an open door; a car horn

blasts impatience, but nothing can change

what really happens at Mass.