The Anointing
She lingered at the threshold, seized with dread, Not daring even glance within the door. Her slender fingers trembled as they bled, Clutching the alabaster vessel's store.
She'd never known such timidness before, Could shame the proudest with a glance or word. Now, shifting at the threshold, to her core, She could not take the final step she'd heard.
She'd lived for pleasure, reveling in sin, The prick of conscience never came to call, Until she met Him—when their eyes had been United in the crowd that gathered all.
He smiled at her, so gentle and so kind, A warm light flooded through her very soul. Within that gaze such sorrow she would find, And glimpses of the future's painful toll.
She followed Him. She knew not why at all. His voice was pleasant, his words strange and new… His words cut deep, brought accusations' pall, And something in her heart began to brew.
She went back home, herself no longer hers, Filled with confusion new and undefined, And for the first time in long years, that night She knelt before the window, bent and blind.
The stars looked down with Jesus' gentle gaze, Not blaming, not accusing. Only love. And like a simple girl through all her days, She saw herself as innocent, thereof.
Where was that soul once innocent and pure, Who trusted God in simple, childlike way? Now broken, naked, barefoot—to endure, She wept in darkness through the endless day.
For hour after hour upon her knees, Her soul reached out through windows to the night, Her sinful life flickered like film's decrees Before her eyes, reel after reel of blight.
When dawn's first ray broke crimson in the east, And taking precious myrrh within her hands, Surrendering to God's will manifest, She went to hear what justice now commands.
She entered. Men recoiled with disdain, The Pharisee with sneering, curled lip. Now Jesus too would judge her shame and pain… And tears came flooding down with greater grip.
But Christ looked at them all with such great love, While all around stood hypocrites arrayed. Oh, how her heart then broke for Him thereof! She fell down at His feet, afraid, dismayed.
Her sobs rose harsh and choking in her throat, She could not speak a single word at all, Just wiped His feet with hair—this fervent note— Gave all she had, surrendered to His call.
The house was filled with myrrh's sweet perfume, The King of Kings was anointed with her care. And soon upon His head, within the gloom, A crown of thorns would rest upon His hair.
At Christ's feet, bowed in humbled grace, The sinful woman heard His words of grace: "Because you loved so much, I now erase Your sins; go now, and sin no more in place."
He touched her hair with hands so good and kind: "You are forgiven, but transgress no more." With soul renewed, with light within her mind— No longer sinner, but reborn of lore.