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.