Bending, Breaking
Life Everlasting & Everlasting Plastics: the Body of Christ and seeing plastic make the headlines the same week as...everything.
We put rounded plastic triangles on the ends of our bannisters to smooth the edges, to protect little heads that turn around the bends too quickly Turns out, everyone was right about plastic: It’s durable (not going nowhere no time soon) It’s filling our planet It’s filling out bodies We are becoming plastic It’s killing us We are dying in an infinite number of minuscule ways. Plastic does not always bend [eventually] it breaks [doesn’t break down fast enough] [breaks down into particles so small it enters our water, our food, us] When left outside for the six months of winter here in the northern land, its colors fade in white waves Thaw freeze thaw freeze freeze freeze freeze thaw —It breaks. And what of it? We knew, We know. We become what we receive. We are what we eat, however microscopic, however mystical, however toxic. A school of thousands of tiny plastic particles, a moving, lifeless murmuration Shifting like clouds [there are clouds of plastic], like drops of ink in a glass Into our bloodstream, Into the mainstream. Amen, Amen I say to you I am the Bread of Life Those who come to me Shall not hunger They shall not perish but have eternal life Amen, Amen I say to you You become what you eat gulp and gobble nibble munch chew savor crunch sip mull dissolve digest Into trillions of tiny bits [of me] Flooding and transforming your body, yourself Into something else New Glowing Radiant Your light will break forth like the dawn spreading across the mountains until full day For I am the Light of the World. A light has shone forth in the darkness, And no darkness shall overcome it. Amen, Amen I say to you You who are bent over from disease and grief despair and rage pain disbelief disenchantment deprivation terror and terrorists dying and death Rise up, Rise up And walk. Amen, Amen I say to you Bend your ear to hear my word May those with ears hear Repent repent return return return. To this living bread, broken and shared. Bent low so that you might be lifted up. One bread, one body. Rise up now and walk.


Beautiful, Allison. And scary too. Hope is always better, though when you know what you’re walking away from, and Who you’re walking to.