What is this Dough?

What is this dough? This
melange of broken wheat,
salted water and yeast gone
wild? This rogue lump will not yield to
my will, yet still it calls me into
its rising.

I cannot knead this
dough without attending to
its soul: it will not be
bread unless I
heed its call,
listening to its song,
its laments, its lauds.

This mystery – growth
under hand
under time
under fire
– sustains as
dough mysteriously
rehearses again the
coming Reign:
bread for the hungry.

5 thoughts on “What is this Dough?

  1. shoreacres says:

    This is lovely. Most people think they need dough, and here you are: reflecting again on the mystery of kneading dough. A doughty poet, you are — there’s always a new delight to ponder!

  2. dianerivers says:

    I feel like we are the dough, the “rogue lump”, these days, broken and yet refusing to yield to the One who wills to knead us into bread that will nourish others. How much fire and pummeling will it take, how much lamenting and resisting before we submit? The sooner, the better, I think.

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