To My Friend, Between Scans

Earnest. The word surfaces
when you describe
the newly minted minister
who visits to the point
of dogging you.
You tolerate this, admit
she prays creatively—
not pro forma. Each visit
ends with elements
she nested for you in her
portable communion set.

Sworn to outlive cancer cells,
you walk, run, lift weights, eat
a wholesome, tedious diet,
cope boldly with side effects
of chemo. Now, you joke,
your regimen of tests includes
church-ordered CAT scans
of your soul. Do they detect
the fissures in your faith?
Does she report them?

You are a gift, to this pastor,
of wit, doggedness,
expansive spirit—all anchored
deep in flesh and blood.
No pious trappings.
Not immortal, not invisible.

Take the prayers, bread, wine.
Keep her close.