by Brian Rosenberger
She once wrote “words will kill me because I will eat them and that is not
what they were meant for”
Dear Misti,
What else are we to do but consume them like entrées at a buffet or drink them down like shots on a Saturday night, in celebration or desperation, good times and bad, and all moments in between.
We taste them, savor them, sometimes consume them entirely to fast, overcome
with desire and anticipation for the next and the next and….
We are sustained and maybe inspired.
Some of us are dumb/lonely/brave enough to share our words with others.
We offer of ourselves, a communion even I can believe in.
Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Our gospel. Our words.
Thanks for the meal.
The next one is on me.
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