The Feeding
(After reading Makings of a Miracle by Stephen Berg)
How would it have felt
to touch
that bread?
Would it crumble in my fingers
or stay whole as I pulled it
apart
the smell of yeast bursting
to engulf me
like the scent of a flower
opening for the first time
And the fish —
would I mind its gaping eye
as I flaked the flesh from bone
would I relish
the skin
crisp in my mouth
be tempted to snatch
another morsel
before the food vanished
afraid
of future hunger
Would I look up to see His face
or seek only basket nourishment
what I could feel, smell
see
in that moment
And later —
would I have named it
miracle?