Our Communion Poem by Gert Strydom

When I rub lavender balm into your feet
it’s every time,
as if we go praying into communion
and in peace stand sinless before God.

I wash your feet in coarse salt
and there are things fitting neatly into our lives
and other things that we talk about
that breaks open a person’s heart.

Sometimes a candle or two are lighted
and the jasmine scent
comes in from outside
and it smells fresh like a new start.

There’s garlic bread of which I get slices
and the smell hangs in the air between us
and we discuss things suspended between us
that a person has difficulty to express in words.

The bottle St Celine
produced by Douglas Green
tastes to you like bitter blood
and you tell me about your pain and bliss.