Fingers on A Sunday Night

Strong fingers grasp my
Hand as we sing together
The words of the ageless,
Ancient prayer that Christ
Taught His followers.

Bony, aged fingers struggle
At the hardened crust of the loaf,
Trying to break it enough
To rip off a piece of the bread.
Delicately, they place the morsel
In my outstretched hands,
Blessing me with
The body of Christ.

Short, soft fingers that have
Only seen a few years of life
Grasp the chalice and
Lift it to me, offering
The purple juice,
The blood of the Lamb.

Unseen fingers touch my back
At various heights as
Young and old behind me
Extend blessing as I touch the
Back of another in front of me,
Praying blessing and healing
Upon them and others
Within the gathered circle.

Multiple fingers wrap around
Me in embrace as their owners
Share prayers of peace;
Touching each other,
Connecting, blessing, loving.

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