Today the congregation celebrated Christ the King Sunday
with a procession in 90-degree heat. More than the sunlight
piercing the stained-glass windows, one illuminating Mary
as she rests her hands on her son’s shoulders, more
than the parable of loaves and fish, more than the carved Apostles
vibrating to our anthem about the bread of angels
becoming the bread of man,

more than the perfume of snuffed candles, I enjoyed
being one of 400 walking around the block.
After priests and a deacon, altar boys and girls
gathered before the incense-bathed altar, we followed them
as a priest carried the monstrance under a canopy, singing
the same refrain until the congregation arrived at two stations–
the rectory and the school. Undeterred by a droning

helicopter, we stayed in sync to the end. Back at the Cathedral,
we chanted divine praises. Following the closing hymn
and organ recessional, the deacon, preparing
to perform a baptism, joked that he was already wet.
We processed in a scraggly line bearing public witness.
Some kneeled at the stations, some stood.
When some of us flagged, others would take up the song.