The Jar

Who were we 

to seal God's love,

so warm and rich with the sun,

into the darkness of that jar?

Glory, we trapped it 

in alabaster, cold

and life

less,

dared to preserve it 

for some purpose

yet to be sanctified.

The treasure, exclusive,

guarded tightly,

abundance wasted

until she arrived 

kneeling

expectant and knowing

her place.

Not silent.

Not invisible.

Not compliant,

but full of courage

to do what she could

to love with her hands

covered and overflowing 

with the perfume of the dead.

More intimate

with this act of preparing

for the end of the body.

Courage to crack open

everything.