Skip to main content

AT HER EUCHARIST by Becky Crigger


This poem was written in honor of Reverend Cynthia Bourgeault, Episcopal priest and mystic…

On the last day of a week-long Wisdom School with Cynthia in Valle Crucis, North Carolina, we celebrated the Eucharist in an apple barn. Our time in Wisdom School was modeled after the Benedictine Monastic order, and we spent our days praying and working alone and together and honoring the sacred silence in the evenings. The retreat center at Valle Crucis was formerly the very first Anglican monastery in the United States.
At Her Eucharist



Her grey rugged clothes and navy cap

Invite me into priestly authenticity.

There are no robes here tonight

No stained glass or pews.

Just a dimly lit red barn at the bottom of a hill,

A circle of chairs framing a small wooden table

Set with bread and wine, body and blood.

A drum and singing bowl, small bouquet of flowers.



Her hardened hands circle the cup

Calling me to this gift

Asking me to be emptied, to be ready.

"Leave all things that you have,

Come and follow me."

The drum is quiet as we stand,

Grows louder as we turn.

Turning and turning, backwards in time.



She holds the bread and speaks to us.

What is this language as we prepare the feast?

A conversation, not a creed

An intimacy, not a routine.

My legs begin to shake as one by one

We make our way to her table

Taking the bread, breaking it in our hands

Lifting the cup, drinking it in our time.



I feel the tears warm my face

As my knees graze the dusty floor,

My interlaced fingers trembling

As I imagine Saint Teresa on the stone

Weeping in her newfound devotion.

In the stillness the moment ceases.

Time is all, all is time.

He is here.


Becky Crigger is a yoga teacher and yoga therapist, as well as a spiritual seeker who finds truth and passion in the many mystical traditions of world religions. She owns a yoga studio in her hometown of Blacksburg, Virginia and is currently discerning a call to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church. You may visit Becky at her yoga studio, "In Balance Yoga Studio" here, on facebook here, or contact her via e-mail: mcdanielbecky@hotmail.com 





~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Ga...
20 comments
Read more

IN THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT by Ginny Brannan

 Just take a moment to pause... When life becomes rote, and frustration grows from being immersed in the same routine—different day, sometimes we need to remind ourselves that peace is still there—within our grasp— if we just take a moment to pause and enjoy the stillness and beauty around us. In the Stillness of the Night  by Ginny Brannan Late winter’s eve and all is still the lawn lies bathed in silver light— gray shadows race across the yard and climb atop the windowsill to draw my gaze upon the sight. I stare out to the moonlit night, across the deck and wooded path fresh–painted by new fallen snow. The scene infuses with delight; this gift inside storm’s aftermath. Half–buried now, the old birdbath lies shadowed deep in indigo— it waits on promise of the spring when arctic chill has finally passed and snow gives way to new green grass. With gratitude, I hedge to go; tranquility allays my soul… I turn ...
2 comments
Read more

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...
4 comments
Read more