Maundy Thursday

The old women in front raise their hands
For a blessing, as the old man’s oxygen
Generator keeps Welsh time to modern praise.
In punctuated silence we contemplate our sin,
His agony, his forgiveness, the coming promise – 
Springs of living water, tears forever dried, 
The Lamb our shepherd and our light,
Salt sea turned fresh by the river forever
Filled with fish, bounded by the wood of life,
Sounds of faraway singing within, scent of flowers
Undiscovered and unknown. But not yet. 
Risen to life, risen to glory, risen with You
Who went before. But not yet. 
Death dead, but not yet. Already, not yet.
Lamb of God, send us your love, send us your blessing,
As the old women raise their hands to pray.