The Burial

In grief we are often entombed ourselves, like it seems the disciples were after Jesus* crucifixion and burial. 

The sense of smell is our only hard-wired (unmediated) sense.  I wonder what smells brought back the disciples* memories of Jesus.  Of course we know the rest of the story.  But they didn*t then.

Jesus is in the tomb

Bound and wrapped and sealed

Into place.

Officially positively

Dead.

The disciples are lost

Among themselves,

Entombed:

Denying, depressed,

One even dead and

Soon to be buried himself

In the potter*s field.

It is night and dark

And very damp.

No stars in the sky,

No moon.

No light at all.

The mixed scent of earth and myrrh

Lingers

Long after the stone

Is rolled into place.

Lost

Among themselves,

Lost in grief,

Still they breathe in blood and iron

Earth and myrrh

bread and wine.

Still

They remember water poured,

The final words.

Still the scent of earth mixed with myrrh

Sweet spices

And nard

lingers

And returns.