I would be that woman
of Canaan,
A notorious sinner,
A feral dog,
a bitch.
Surreptitiously sidling
To the Master’s crumbs
under the table.

A woman of exceptional faith,
Who knew her bloodied clothes,
could not be dogged,
licked clean.
The only human hand,
God hand,
Resurrected hand,
could wash,
waters living,
the stain of sin.

She cried out:

I would be that woman
of the well,
Handprint of many men.
Adam’s fingerprint upon her chest:
A scarlet tattoo.

I am a handful of emotional sin,
too much for anyone to handle.
Except by you, God.
No different.
No less.
No more.
than anyone else.

I need my Savior.
My Christ.
My Jesus.
He stands between me and my God,
so I might be perfect in His sight.

I cry out to Him.
I get what I came for:
Not crumbs,
but cakes of mercy,
bread of forgiveness,
licking the pools of spilt wine,

That act of blood,
bleaches stains in a sodden cloth.
The medicine of immortality,
In bread and wine,
Body and blood.

My faith is but a fragment
upon the floor, ant-like.
I cry out
and He gives me what I came for:
in His eyes I am unblemished.

I am as sinful
as those righteous women.
And like them, I depend on Jesus.

I am a dog,
a whore,

a baptised child of God,
adopted as righteous
because of one selfless act.

First published Ancient Paths Online, Spring 2015.


Published by: Basicallybarb

Barbara A Meier is a poet, teacher, and mother, trying to write her way out of Kansas, anxiety and depression. Instead of indulging in feeling like garbage, trash, or rubbish, she chooses to examine the debris of her life by writing poems about it. After all as a forgiven, child of God, simultaneously saint and sinner, she is loved and cherished by her God.

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