Taste this artificial wine
served with sacramental pretense amid
the pageant of denominational theater.
This sugary surrogate cannot carry
the full body of a living vintage
that poured freely from holy veins
caught in the crucifixion winepress.
Modern sanctification is now made
fresh from frozen concentrate,
the new covenant contaminated
by these sterile, unshared vials.
Never mind the single wineskin
which was opened and offered
for each of our lips to touch
and where all of our soiled mouths
were supposed to nurse.
About the Poem
This poem tries to capture in some way the sense of things Christians may have lost in our faith in pursuit of clean symbols and tidy presentation.
This poem is previously unpublished in print. This poem was finished sometime in 2003.