The Aroma of Life to Life

Once she hid, alone
Guarding a dead husk,
Hoping it still lived.
Precious, it was,
And the only one
She would ever have.

Shriveled,
Wilted,
It did not respond
To her touch
Or anyone else's.
Deep inside she knew
It had no breath.
But if she admitted
That it had none,
Then she would have to admit
That neither did she.

You see
It was
Her soul.

It rattled, dryly scraping
In the slightest breeze
And she hoped those were sounds
Of life.
But the truth was a terror
Which haunted her dreams.

One more wound,
One more grief,
One more betrayal,
One more lie,
And the tiny spark of life
If there was one
Would surely ebb away.
She would become a zombie
The walking dead.

The image awakened her in a cold sweat
Night after night.

How can
A dead
Soul live?

She had no close friends.
Even her family
Was kept at bay
By her smiles which lied.
She was okay
Or at least she would be
If everyone would just
Leave her alone
To stare at her husk
And convince herself
That it lived.

People make demands.
They drain you.
I'd love to have something to give
But I only have this husk
And I will die without it.
Better to live here, alone
Than to let anyone take it from me.

A dead
Soul's better
Than none.

But there was an aroma
A scent
Which sometimes drifted into
Her loneliness
And when she smelled it
She wept
For joy.

But it didn't happen often.
What can dry husks savor?

Most of the time
Rage simmered
Against any and all
Who even dared to want
Much less need
Anything from her.

You're trying to kill me.
You will use me up
Until there's nothing left.

Then He came.

She knew He was behind
Everything that happened
In the universe He'd made.
So she hated Him
Most of all.

And yet
He brought
That scent

And on one dark night
He did the unthinkable.
He picked up the husk
And showed it to her
Forced her to see it
For what it was
For the very first time.

Ugly rot
Decaying stench
Lifeless corpse.

It lay in His hand.
A scarred hand.
And she knew she was helpless
Against Him.
He could close His fist
And it would be crushed
Forever.

And yet
Her fear
Met love.

Her gaze, for once
Forsook its idol
And moved upwards
To see His face.
Pounding heart
In mortal peril
Yet felt calmed.

Though He slay me
Yet will I trust Him.

How could
She feel
This way?

She knew before she looked.
The husk lived.
She lived.
The perfume infused a soul
Which once could not draw breath.

Every whiff I sensed before
Was a miracle from His hand
I should not have been able to smell it
But He knew I needed to.

All those years
When she had thought she was
The guardian of her soul
It had been Him
Him
All along.

Tender One
Living Water
Reviving Breath

She is safe.

Life still hurts.
But she has no more dreams
Of zombies.

Life still hurts.
But she no longer
Craves her solitude.
At least not all the time.

Life still hurts.
But life is sweet
Because she knows
How it feels to be
Without it.

Life still hurts.
But no one can take it from her
Because it rests in the hands
Of the One who will someday
Take all the hurt away.

Life still hurts.
But love grows
Where fear no longer reigns.
And it especially grows
When it senses that aroma
From the souls of others.

Precious, beloved others
Even those she's never met
Still move her heart because
They share His life.

Life still hurts.
But those who bear
His aroma
Touch her with it
And she knows
A foretaste
Of healing.

Even some of those who were
Her family by flesh and blood alone
Are now her family in the Spirit, too.
And there is joy
Even when there's heartache.

The perfume wafts
From petals crushed.
The Rose of Sharon
The Lilly of the Valley
For love's sake
Bruised for her.

For you.

Can you
Smell it
As well?

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Copyright Betsy Markman, 2009