UNVEILING

It was always my father who said
the grace before we ate. It never occurred
to me to ask why. It was the way
things were. What puzzled me,
though I never thought to ask,
was intenda juice. We never
drank it, I'd never seen it, but it
appeared in every mealtime prayer.

 I believed it was one of those
mysterious necessary words
we heard at church like salvation
and sanctify and atonement.

Years passed. A visiting preacher
came for a meal and, according
to protocol, Dad asked him
to say the blessing. He pronounced
his words precisely. He prayed:
And bless this food to its
intended use. At last I understood,
though, truth be told,
I preferred the mystery.