Pour out

                  Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard,
         anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair.
         The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
 —John 12.3 

Mary pours out her ointment―
as Jesus, not clinging,
out-poured himself―
pours out herself,
fragrance of love and sorrow,
no second-hand words to borrow,
only kindness and loveliness
for his kindness and loveliness,
washing with such fierce love
feet before they’re pierced,
her perfume poured out
of a broken open soul
in love made whole
that confounds the others,
befuddled brothers,
her world-healing salve
simply this: in the face of death
to offer tenderness.

Mary, pouring out yourself,
your flask now empty
as a grave,
your sweet baptismal bath
so gently drowning death:
pour out your holy oil
on me
and from my jar of fear
and self
pour me all out
and set me free.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

April 7, 2020

Your Cart
  • No products in the cart.