Meditation on a Massage
More poems from the Christian mystic.
Meditation on a Massage
I. In Memory of Her
How did it feel, Lord, when she poured the oil on your head?
Did she knead it into your scalp? Pull it through your hair?
Did she wipe it from your brow?
Did she follow your cheek bones under your eyes?
Did you drop your tunic, let her knead your mortal clay, fill in the stripes to come, the spear point in your side?
Did she pull your arms out straight? Did you strain to feel her last departing touch?
We know she knelt and healed the yet unopened nail holes in your feet.
She washed them with her tears and dried them with her hair.
Did she embrace you, blessing you with her adoring sweat?
II. In Memory of You
John – who says that God is love – says that you were the Mary who chose to sit and listen while her sister served.
Luke – who promised the hungry that they would be filled – says that you were a penitent whore.
I think that you were an unrepentant whore.
For only whores love flesh enough to heal before the wound.