May 12, 2017

My Journey to God

My First Communion

At my First Communion
I wore a knee-high dress
of crisp, gauzy blue.
In honor of Mary?
To be just that different?
It was the one on sale?

I don’t know or remember.

With my big pencil print
I had filled in all the pages
of my gold workbook
along with the rest
of my second-grade class.
We were ready, the teacher said.

I offered up my little throne
to the priest.
He told me the bread
was His body,
and, “Amen,”
was my bookend response.

I did not chew.
I did not want to hurt Him.
Eyes closed, He dissolved slowly.

He dissolved slowly.
Over time
and time again
of receiving and receiving
with eyes closed.
How long receiving without receiving?

I don’t know or remember.

A convert kneels next to me
and I envy him.
His head is bent to the bench-back.
Hands cover his face like a veil.
Until, “Behold,” and he looks.
And he is on the mountaintop.

Coming back
to receive again,
I know. I know now.
I behold Him and I speak
the Hebrew “I believe” –
“Amen!”

I do not chew.
I savor. Him so close.
He dissolves slowly.

Stay!
I ask of us both,
like one on the Emmaus road
so that now knowing
I remember, and remembering
I believe.

By Katie Rahman
 

(Katie Rahman is a member of St. Patrick Parish in Terre Haute.) †

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