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The Miracle of Giving

D. A. Powell

1963 –

Twice Christ took the bread apart

with his human hands that he used for

such tasks, once with fish and once with wine,

the grain a pattern of tribute, distribute,

as he worked the division of himself into

feeding others with his body, taken but not taken,

there but not there, it was two times

two times two. Ever body got some body

who will feed them even when there seem hardly

enough to go round. When I hungered the word

fed me. Even so, so many others hungered

he needed a hundred more human hands.

That was when I said here take mine.

D. A. Powell's most recent books are Repast: Tea, Lunch, Cocktails (Graywolf Press, 2014) and Useless Landscape, or a Guide for Boys: Poems (Graywolf Press, 2012).

Themes

About this Poem

“I wrote ‘The Miracle of Giving’ during a Thanksgiving holiday, a meditation on Christian values during a time when Christians seem more focused on erasing and policing the lives of others rather than embracing or serving their neighbors and loving one another unconditionally. My inspiration for the poem was Rev. Cecil Williams, pastor of Glide Memorial Church, which provides meals, education, outreach and healing in the Tenderloin neighborhood of San Francisco. Williams famously removed the giant cross that stood behind his pulpit and told the congregation, ‘From now on, you’re the cross.’”
―D. A. Powell

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More by this poet

The Imaginal Stage

turns out
there are more planets than stars
more places to land
than to be burned

I have always been in love with
last chances especially 
now that they really do 
seem like last chances

the trill of it all upending
what’s left of my head
after we explode

are you ready to ascend
in the morning I will take you
on the wing

D. A. Powell

2019

Long Night Full Moon

You only watch the news to find out
where the fires are burning, which way
the wind is blowing, and whether
it will rain. Forecast ahead but first:
A mother’s boy laid out
in the street for hours.
These facts don’t wash away.

D. A. Powell

2016

Passing Through

Watching Picnic again for the
umpteenth time. We need
more trains. The tin-roofed stations in
red brick or the grand multi-track
white terminals. Someone left
me by train once, tearily, and
I never should have let his
jive ass back in to collect his things
that were stashed in Patty’s room.
Patty’s room is the closet. He was
a closet case. He was a cliché.
He left by train but the train
was a bus. Mysteries unfold
on trains. Strangers disembark
often enough to disrupt your day.

D. A. Powell

2014

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The Miracle of Giving

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