Wednesday, May 30, 2007

The Oil

26 May 2007, 9:02 PM

The oil is thin, but thick
with honeysuckle running down my face-
reminds me of a moment when I thought
I lived outside of grace. I stood
before a man I had yet to call father,
and he pronounced a blessing:

In the name of the Father,
and of the Son,
and of the Holy Spirit…

The scent of antique rose
filled my senses with Reality:
Something bigger than myself was mine;
offered something more than shame to me.

I touch my face, and something somewhere
between rose and honeysuckle glistens
on my fingertips. It soothes the hurts,
imparts a scent I’ll notice long after
I’ve left the Nave, a scent that will remind me
of the cobbled ways I’ve walked
to find the honeysuckle breezes
and the roses, still adorned with thorns,
yet beckoning my spirit nonetheless.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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