Was it like a blood transfusion?
The new blood cells entering the body
and intermingling with the old over time
until no trace of a difference was found between the two?
Or was it all at once,
a hydrogen becoming a protein here,
an oxygen popping into a sugar there,
and suddenly the fragrance of wine wafting up from the jar?
We are slow in recognizing change in ourselves.
We don’t notice until the transformation is almost complete,
and we are a shade different from who we used to be,
a drop more bitter
Made of water,
but so much more,
we are swirled up, stirred up,
changed by the same hand.
We are water made into wine,
recreated into divinity held in fragile jars.
Done in remembrance,
but much more than memory,
we are changed into you
by the same mystery that made God into a man
and changed one man
into an offering for the world.