And also with you.

I pitied you --

your awkwardness,

your plainness,

your cat sweaters.

Middle aged, overweight, and single,

I judged you deserving

of the special censure of my sympathy.

I pitied that you came into the church alone,

Sunday after Sunday,

though so did I.

And when you sat down in the pew next to me,

I admit

that I disliked to be paired with you,

and pity

admixed with distain

was all I offered.

And that is why

when you

(listening to the voice at the altar) turned

and offered me in return

the sign of Christ’s peace,

I knew

that I had been right

to think we were not equals.