It is Advent and I am making bread
ingredients already at hand
one free mind, one open heart, one body, sensing
I know how to knead them
how to await, in the stillness, in the dark
and allow these three their unknowing
Expectation in repose
silence from the whole of my being
Then I light a fire in the darkness.
Here now, sweat and blood
the active and contemplative virgins
The bread of ‘I’.
Awaiting the fullness of time
even as the fullness of time, early lately
swells my womb.
The birth of the word in the soul
some inner body, borning, forming
eating holy, finer things
I am, unmade and made all at once
in this present darkness
A spark that leaps!
It is Advent and water, flour, leaven
then fire until I rises
to break bread with the broken.
Andrew Breitenberg 12/1-8/2022