Ruined alabaster

and a year’s worth of labor

dripping off Jesus‘ feet—

wasted—

and all while people starve to death!

So the loveless

look on love

and see but fault.

But Love knows love—

hears the echos of Himself

in shattering stone,

feels His own heartbeat

in oil running down:

it is a gift,

and neither He

nor anyone who hears Him

will ever forget

this perfume.