Pieces of a Life: Residing Hope

Photo by Dawn Sanborn

Residing Hope

We've closed Pandora's box -- the thing we've called life, chiseled in gold and fine wood,

painted with the blood of Christ, the blood of crime and innocence stolen away...

ornate shined mahogany in which our reflection -- together, apart -- is cast back.

We are the decorated ones.

But should it open to the past, those sins, swirling like a swarm of bees, will pull us back,

waiting to imprison...either or both: you who hides in the desert praying

or me, steeping faith, hoping to extract the aroma and flavors of the divine,

collecting tea as you've done with tattoos.

This woman with elixirs at a windowsill...snippets of sunshine and supplication

to anoint...every morning, mere moments she takes, silently preparing

for death and rebirth.

Promises poured upon you, each drop orchestrating veils of hair

on my once bald head;

I'm alive again, resurrected by your prayer. The chiming of tears

becomes music in which I'm wrapped.

You are my magic box

filled with Bibles and anointing oils.

Still, a longing as old as this earth itself, leaves me wanting to open

wide

embracing you like the mighty Jordan that baptizes.

Perhaps it's because Jesus himself once graced the waters which held you.

Or maybe

it's just because I turn

and there you are again,

reminding me of everything I love to love...

Pieces of a Life