The Woman with the Alabaster Jar
As a young girl, and ever since,
she had a problem with men
and they with her.
Never enough –
good enough, smart enough, pretty enough.
Never seen as a person,
much less an equal.
much less listened to.
much less appreciated.
Never welcomed to the table,
although it was she who prepared it.
She was an object to be used,
and in turn she used men.
Codependents in shame and secrets,
survival and compromises,
scheming and manipulating.
Her soul had grown weary of weeping.
But this time, this time,
someone had loved her in truth,
and she received it to her core,
and her response was gratitude.
But this time, this one time,
she would do it well enough,
beyond what could go unnoticed.
She sold all she had to purchase the oil.
And although her familiar foes judged,
attacked and dismissed once more,
this time, this time,
someone received her with dignity and respect,
love for love,
person to person,
divinity revealed to those who would see.