Exhaling

Yes, another poem. It’s what I DO, and sometimes it comes in waves:

Do not wonder that now I weep
and then am filled with song –
Grace’s reach is sharp and deep
and clay vessels are not strong.
And so we sometimes reel,
stuporous and giddy,
As we are prepared to share a meal
with the inhabitants of God’s city.
We must be in proper attire
and embrace a kind of death
To hold the holy Fire
of God’s own sacred Breath.