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Anointment at Bethany
She entered fast, - she was from out of town,
Had slipped past servants, and at steady pace,
Advanced in spite of disapproving frown,
To find the feet she needed to embrace.
And kneeling down before her Lord and Master
She started weeping long and bitterly,.
Unsealed the heavy jar of alabaster,
A jar so tall, it almost touched His knee.
How many tears can hold the tear canal-
How many droplets will the gland allow
To course along the passage lacrimal,
And spout and gush in love’s enduring flow.
Who could provide for such a tidal wave
Of tears’ profusion, but tremendous love,
With surge sufficient dusty feet to lave,
A tear pit’s cache could not provide enough.
“A prophet He is not,- else He would know
About this woman, - her identity,
And would recoil from her and not allow
Her touching Him for everyone to see!”
But steady was the flow of tears we learn
Beneath the stare of righteous pharisees
Who knew her well, but never could discern
The love that spurred the woman on her knees.
Soft luscious hair spread out to dry those feet,
To kiss, perfume them with a heart contrite;
Tears spent, - she dared not lift her eyes to meet
The gaze of love and merci infinite.
© Elizabeth Dandy
Mark 13-14-3
Matthew 26.6.-13
John 12.1-8
Publ.Volume 2- Poetry by Elizabeth
Dandy - Vantage Press N.Y.
