It has fallen to me to break the bread.
It has fallen to me to spill the wine.
Perhaps I am a brother, perhaps a friend,
Perhaps the one strayed lamb,
Who in the very beginning
Never guessed it would be over.
My life as I know it is over
With the taking of this bread,
With my lips beginning
The tasting of the wine.
Here is the Passover lamb.
Here is my friend.
How can he call me his friend?
I rest here looking over
To see the sacrificial lamb
Who blesses the bread
And prays for the wine.
He is the end and the beginning.
How could I tell that this was beginning:
This betrayal of my friend.
I should not drink this wine,
To recognize that it is over:
Do I yet leaven the bread?
Will God not provide another lamb?
Abraham was sent a lamb
Before his sacrifice’s beginning.
Break not Christ’s body, but merely bread.
May I remain his friend.
I want the angel to here pass over –
No more symbols in the wine.
I remember the water turning to wine.
I want to see the lion with the lamb.
I know my part in this is over.
I feel my death is only beginning.
I am no longer his friend.
I will be the reason for the breaking of bread.
With each bite of bread and every sip of bitter wine
I will remember him, my friend; but I will sacrifice this lamb.
My treason is beginning as I pray his blood may yet wash me over.