Poems by Steven Federle
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Caravaggio,Supper at Emmaus
National Gallery, London
Walking through the dusty grove
we talked of death and empty graves
when a stranger suddenly appeared.
He walked with us and asked why we trembled so.
Amazed that he seemed not to know
of the blood and pain in Jerusalem,
we told him
how dark the day became, how the sun slid down
to shivering night
when, broken, our friend was placed in the cave.
Rebuking us for our lack of faith,
he explained how it was all foretold in the ancient books;
from Adam to David, the inevitable grave
We heard, eyes cast down,
when at Emmaus he broke
our common bread
and looking up, we saw Him.
His face was blazing like the sun!
We blinked, and then he was gone,
but the bread remained.
(7 May 2011)
Share to Twitter
Share to Facebook
Share to Pinterest