Fragrance
by Paul Purdayhttps://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/PaulPurdayPaintings?ref=seller-platform-mcnav
Far more than fragrance of the blooms
Upon the desert air
Surpassing all their scented fumes
Was Mary's ointment there.
How precious to the Saviour, is
the pouring from the heart
For all the fragrance is but His
And His exclusive art.
It's not from us, this ointment now
But all derives from Him
His body broken to allow
That overflowing brim.
In fetid odours of the earth
So many do not know
The priceless fragrance of His worth
He poured while here below.
His Blood would spell the end of death
The close of all things here
Soon to release the Spirit's breath
And mark the end of fear.
It is an ointment pouring forth.
Its sweetest savour may
reflect upon our newer birth
His fragrant world to stay.
This poem was a finalist in the
September 2025 poetry contest
