“An Ointment Mixed With Earth” (Rumi)

I was a thorn rushing to be with a rose, vinegar blending with honey, a pot of poison turning to healing salve, pasty wine dregs thrown in the millrace.

I was a diseased eye reaching for Jesus’ robe, raw meat cooking in the fire.

Then I found some earth to make an ointment with

that would honor my soul, and in mixing that, I found poetry. Love says, You are right. But do not claim credit for those changes.

Remember. I am wind. You are the ember I ignite.

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