Our Last Supper
Our Last Supper christianity stories
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kirsten_ambrose
kirsten_ambrose I write for fun, and for school.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
A poem about The Last Supper

Our Last Supper

We sat in a room,

It was one of our friend’s,

Looking over our shoulders.

And talking in whispers.

He stood in our midst,

But was somehow alone,

With a pain on His face that

Was not understood.

We sat down to eat,

An important meal,

Attempting to laugh because

It’s better than fear.

With bread in His hands

He spoke to us all

‘This is my body’,

But we saw only bread.

It was passed around,

Then He lifted the cup.

‘This is my blood,

Poured out for you’.

I looked at His face,

And His hands rough from work,

From smoothing the wood,

And giving it life.

He’s more than a man,

But what, I don’t know,

The elements bow down

And submit to his will.

Though he be my age,

Few years less or more,

I’d follow him to the grave,

That much is sure.

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