He breathed on them the scent
of grave-clothes, myrrh, and aloes,
the stench of forgiveness;
I imagine that smells of olive oil
pressed from the groves in the Garden
of Gethsemane, drowning out with unction
the fetor of betrayal and blood.
All day long they shed the reek
of that “Peace be with you”
behind them like a trace
for the dogs to follow.
“Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” John 20:29b
over the water 