For me, writing Easter poems is tradition. I love covering new territory of the crucifixion story, the story of salvation. I have covered a lot of perspectives and aspects, but there are always more to plumb...it may just take some harder thinking. Like today's. Hopefully it turned out and you can dig on what is being said.
The Jar and Its Precious Contents
She christens his head with nostalgia,
works myrrh into weeping locks
whose scalp, anticipating tomorrow’s
thorns, absorbs this blessing thirstily.
She runs fingers rich like frankincense
through curls reserved for this
since a virgin defied science
with the birthing of a son.
She slowly drains her alabaster jar.
Those who should know him best
protest and proclaim her praise as
waste, yet still she pours her fortune
of sepulchral perfume.
She kneads the emptied opulence to
smoothing furrows he got from his Father.
In all this woman’s tenderness
she all but leans to kiss his head,
loving him with precious drops
so like the cross-extracted red
with which he’d do the same:
hung and waiting
on the morrow's sanguine lips.