Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.
The bread of his sun-caked body
breaks open for them, wine divided
into so many mouths, no hesitancy
in their hunger for him, for what will crack
his face into a smile—how can there be
devastation in the creases of his laugh,
dissolution of their hearts clenched solid—
no growing fear that he’s meant all
along to teach them to scatter, to love
the shards of shattered alabaster jars.