Everyday holiness

Although they had warned him against her,
there was nothing untoward in her touch.
The salt of her tears drew out his skin as though
it reached back toward her.

She dried his toes with her hair, barely tickling;
no one could accuse her of teasing,
her grave solemnity undoing any laughter at its source,
demanding understanding, willing complicity.

He thought it was worth a try, to let them know
how much they had meant to him,
their company, their frank, dumb friendship,
before he was shorn like a lamb for the slaughter.

About Rosalind C Hughes

Rosalind C Hughes is a priest and author living near the shores of Lake Erie. After growing up in England and Wales, and living briefly in Singapore, she is now settled in Ohio. She serves an Episcopal church just outside Cleveland. Rosalind is the author of A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longing (Upper Room Books, 2020). She loves the lake, misses the ocean, and is finally coming to terms with snow.
This entry was posted in Holy Days, lectionary reflection, poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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