Wash and Weep – Mary
Rev’d Cara Smart, Assistant Curate, St Paul’s, Wokingham
I walk, the hot dust sticking to my skin,
children call to each other with carefree glee,
mothers nurse their children, traders sell their goods…
When a heavenly silence hits and I see a perfume jar
sweet smelling with an arid bitterness that takes away my breath.
It means goodbye.
It sits on my shelf staring, taunting
now, but not yet,
telling of what was and is and is to come –
And I pray, I pray that I was wrong
and I’ll never need it, that his hour will never come.
Pain washes over my stomach, blood emptying from my heart
and swirling back into relief,
as I know he is still here, even for one more day.
I sit at his feet, my heart is torn from top to bottom,
busyness flashing around me until I’m grounded,
dwelling in his words, the Word,
drinking him in, this life giver,
gazing at his glorious face, my face, his face, God’s face.
God’s holy place that reminds me I have returned to love
Please not now, not now,
not yet, I need more time, my time.
I take the perfume and find his feet.
Feet that kicked his mother’s womb, feet that crawled, that learned to walk, feet that ran, that tripped, feet that bear the good news that bear now my tears
Tears, perfume, hair, tears, perfume, hair, tears, perfume, hair, tears, perfume, hair, tears, perfume, hair, tears, perfume, hair
Telling my story, his story
history will remember my costly fragrance
as I weep and wash, wash and weep my love and I pray
that this love will one day be yours.
Make it yours, make it yours, make it yours.