I like dipping my hands in the metal bowls of water &
making everything I touch holy. Holy forehead, holy
chest, holy lips. I am too old to sleep through sermon, too
young to listen. Holy pew. Holy basket for offering. My
grandmother passes soft mints to busy our mouths. Not
busy enough. Holy sweet. She doesn’t listen to me, but
she will to the man commanding standkneel. We accept
his crunchy bread. Holy body. We eat God. We eat, yet I
hunger for softer things. My auntie won’t let me see the
Bible on her phone. She knows I play games instead. I dip
my hand again as we leave. Holy me. Flick some on my
brother. Holy us.
I’m a 53 year old Catholic. You have eloquently described a lot of my experiences at Mass as an adult.