Bathed in the waters
of the womb,
God born, a baby.

Mary knelt beside her
sweet infant son,
and she washed Him,
beaming at the beauty
a mother finds in fingers
and toes and tiny
laughing lips.

Long nights without sleep,
Jesus cried and salty tears
baptized His cheeks.

Summers swimming in
rivers and creeks,
splashing and diving
and watching the sun
glitter on the water,
all around the body
of the Son.

Next to John in the Jordan,
under the water and
risen to the spirit.

Woman who recognized
a good man when she saw
Him, wept
at His feet and washed
the skin of His soles
with the always-pouring liquid love
of everything she held inside.

On a wooden rugged cross,
already dead and pierced,
out poured blood…

and water.


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