Anointment at Bethany









She entered fast, - she was from out of town,

Had slipped past servants, and at steady pace,

Advanced in spite of disapproving frown,

To find the feet she needed to embrace.



And kneeling down before her Lord and Master

She started weeping long and bitterly,.

Unsealed the heavy jar of alabaster,

A jar so tall, it almost touched His knee.



How many tears can hold the tear canal-

How many droplets will the gland allow

To course along  the passage lacrimal,

And spout and  gush in love’s enduring flow.



Who could provide for such a tidal wave

Of tears’ profusion, but tremendous love,

With surge sufficient dusty feet to lave,

A tear pit’s cache could not provide enough.



“A prophet He is not,- else He would know

About this woman, - her identity,

And would recoil from her and not allow

Her touching Him for everyone to see!”



But steady was the flow of tears we learn

Beneath the stare of righteous pharisees

Who knew her well, but never could discern

The love that spurred the woman on her knees.







Soft luscious hair  spread out to dry those feet,

To  kiss, perfume  them with a heart contrite;

Tears spent, - she dared not lift her eyes to meet

The gaze of love and merci infinite.



© Elizabeth Dandy



Mark 13-14-3

Matthew 26.6.-13

John 12.1-8





Publ.Volume 2- Poetry by Elizabeth

Dandy - Vantage Press N.Y.





















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