Altar Boy

At the altar in gown and surplus, black and white

And ignorant. He speaks and I recite

The litany of litanies, the Mass

At five a.m. I watch him slowly pass

The Eucharist across the sanctified wine.

Little do I know, the grand design

Escapes my childhood soul, my unformed mind.

This father-priest fearsome yet not unkind,

Rarely a gentle word escapes his tongue,

Now turns, beatified, the bell is rung,

The sacramental host is served, Christ's blood

From wine, body from bread, the holy rood

Blesses us. Service done I leave

The chancel watching shrunken widows grieve

Unaware of what will be my fate

In future years when my deeds constellate,

Hear not the harp but the song of a distant flute;

A smile that renders all expression mute

I'll see and touch the feet of Heaven's queen

And glimpse His face through earth's transparent screen.