He took the bread, and he broke it Showed us how he would be broken Unleavened, unstained bread scored for the occasion Like whips. There was something somber in the celebration Bread of life, Eating his last in strife. He said, “My body was given for you.” Now, I don’t want to misconstrue, But he spoke as if he was the lamb on the table, Laying down his life so that we would be able… Able to break bread with him again. Then the wine, brushed red like the blood of the lamb
brushed over the door post so that death would pass over the land. He said, “This is my blood, shed for you.” Shed for me? I should’ve been the one bleeding on that tree! Strung up between two thieves. Left in that god-forsaken Calgary. Your blood, that wine given to us “in remembrance of me.” Now you said you must suffer, But teacher, you armed us with swords, we could have locked the door. Why’d you go out to the garden to pray? We could have stopped you from being betrayed. Just one more meal. One more day. Now you and Judas are gone Simon the Zealot and Peter, both quick to the sword guarding the door.
Nothing is how it was before It’s been three days And we were just about to pray, When some others came and said they’d seen you on the way You appeared to them In the breaking of bread. That you were flesh and blood, not in their head. And somehow, they understood why you had to die Like a lamb we sacrifice, Cleansing us to be right. Like the bread hidden in the Passover, you would rise.
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