Anointing Hand
Face angled down
And shoulders turned away
Every bone and sinew
Filled with shame
That he should see me like this,
In my dressing gown
Hair still tussled
Lips still swollen
Still damp with sweat
And trembling
I can feel the burn
Of disgust on my skin,
As a moment ago
I felt lust�s burn.
One from the rabbi,
One from just a man
But both sink my body in shame.
Until a new touch comes.
The touch neither of lust nor
Loathing. It drips down my head.
Through my hair like oil,
Relaxing every shame-filled limb,
Soothing and warming like oil.
And a new desire,
A new passion
Flows in my veins:
Not a desire to seduce
To own
Not to cover myself
But rather an urge
To take the anointing hand
That caresses my hair
And hold it like life.
And I look up.
For the first time I know
I�ll meet neither lust nor loathing;
Only a new thing
I�ve never seen.