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At Bethany

From the sanctum of your home
you come closer to the hearth
with terra cotta jar exhaling nard
and hands aflame with frankincense.

In the slow, tender burn of anointing,
your body also becomes scented
and the grace you have long walked with
is crowned by dawn’s ruddy light
reflecting off the high windows
of Jerusalem.

Blessed are you for blessing,
and rich for emptying your purse.
A messiah readied prepares you
with hands aflame with love and pain.

Your skin—beautiful, thirsty desert—
draws in the oil that pools on his.
This the earliest Eucharist.
This a most divine exchange.