Sister Poetry

Sitting before Icon of the Nazarine
I bow low at the feet before me.
Filling my hand with modern nard, I place the plastic jar aside.
Taking one foot in hand I move my scented
fingers across the aching instep.

Again and again the sojourn is made from heel to toes;
inwardly I thank for every step made in ministry of joyful service across the years.

I pour out more nard.
Now the other foot is warmed by tender rhythmic strokes
as the tiredness and hurt is lessened.
Energy flows like the Jordon between us. Both of us are saturated with glistening oil.

I need no towel - the dry, tired feet absorbs all applied love.
Each foot cradled, and dried with gentle friction­ ankles, instep and toes respond.

In the end, both of us
are warmed, oiled, and loved though words are few.

Inspired by "Anointings in Bethany" by Irene Zimmerman (Jn. 12:1-8)