Refusing the Body and the Blood
Brennan Burks


 
Over their heads, crimson spews from a wound in the right ribcage of Christ. The tip of the metal spear that punctured him is glazed with blood, drawn away in the pale hands of the Roman solider on the left. Between the simple wooden cross holding the body and the backdrop of deep blue, tendrils of gold and yellow explode from Christ’s sagging head and opened arms.Each pane of stained glass illuminated and shimmering in the candle-lit Mass.

Amid a thickening haze of incense, nearing the end of the homily, whispers from parents to their children flicker across the nave like stray prayers in the wind. A baby cries until she is rocked quiet again.

Cloaked in red capes, there is a small, metallic shine on the sides of the soldiers’ round helmets
and on the shoulders of their layered armor as they look up to a prostrated Christ, flanking him.

The homily ends. The mother looks to see what pew she and the boys will fall into and then
where in the center aisle that pew will release them. She traces with her eyes their path to the
waiting hands of the robed priest, like following a stream of falling water back to its source. The
mass of bodies shuffles forth. One by one, mouths receive the body and the blood.

It’s their turn. She looks to her right. The twins. Their brown skin still soft with youth and
darkened in contrast to the wrinkled, blue collared shirts spilling out of khaki chinos. Heads
freshly buzzed high to parts of black waves slicked to the right. In the clean stubble above
Jose’s ears red zits are starting to emerge. Head bowed but eyes wandering, Jesus’s thick,
square glasses have slid halfway down his nose. She catches their gaze and the two boys step
into the pew and become part of the shuffling mass.

She looks to her left. Javier’s navy denim shirt tucked neatly into black denim jeans stand stark
against his sand-colored Timberlands. Hair cropped evenly close over his entire head, a thin
gold chain, resting on the outside of his shirt, drops just below the opened top button of his
collar. He is the oldest only by a few years, but with eyes like blackened orbs that reflect even
the dimmest of light as dancing fire. They slowly move into her gaze. He remains a statue
beneath the stained glass. Not a word or a whisper. Only the cut of her brown eyes encased in
the sharpening angle of her glare. Still, he holds firm.

In a single motion, his jaw tightens and slits of tension form at the corners of his eyes, he makes
the slightest shake of his head in defiance. The gold chain glistens in quiet protest.
She’s fifteen years away looking into the dark eyes of her husband. Across the border, in the
rocky hills of Sinaloa, back at their farm. The flames shoot out from their adobe house behind
her husband, a bursting blaze in the open desert under the clear night sky. She can scream no
longer. The black smoke has charred her throat. But now is the moment. They must flee like
dogs. Leave this forsaken land. Head north. Begin anew. Between high pulses of flames, on the
far hillside, she can see the blaring lights of trucks silhouetting their drivers, shimmering in the
heat of her burning home. They watch her family like hungry wolves. She feels it in her body. In
the arms of her eldest child tightening his grip around her leg. In the screams of her twins
vibrating her tired arms. From the white glow of the fire, she can see the glint of a gold chain
and the muscles of her husband’s body begin to coil in tension, pulled between the magnetic
poles of existence. Her voice gone, she pleads with the eyes of a fierce mother, but a young
wife. Still, he holds firm.

The jaw, the corners of the eyes, the shake of the head.

The mother and her eldest son stand locked onto each other as the haze of incense surrounds
everything, settling in the backs of their throats with a soft burn. The baby begins crying again.

Bodies shuffle forth. Christ is forever dying above their heads.









​

About the Author: 
Brennan Burks’s writing has appeared in ​Mock Turtle Zine and Edible Ohio Valley. He lives in Hamilton, OH with his family.

---