Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Fragrance (10/24/05)
TITLE: Awaken My Heart of Myrrh
By Crista Darr
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I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
His voice washes over my soul like gentle waters. A contented smile embraces my lips as I rest securely in the warmth of his love. He is mine and I am his. He calls me to rise, for intimacy awaits us. I stir against the pricks of my awakened heart as the ease of slumber fights for my affections.
I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
Lulled by excuses, I take his summons lightly. Choosing comfort, I reject him. My head remains nestled in my pillow as I drift back to sleep.
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.
Reaching his hand through the door of my heart, he crushes the hardened myrrh within. The anointing oil of sorrow and shame saturates my spirit; I ache with every drop. Eyes heavy with the quest of self are opened. I am infinitely unworthy of him, denying his call for the fleeting pleasures of lesser things.
I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock. I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him: I called him, but he gave me no answer.
Spurned, the one who gave everything to hold me as his own has withdrawn himself. I am sick with grief over love forsaken. The crushed myrrh of my suffering heart flows from every fingertip. Why do I slumber when it is time to rise? The sweet-smelling fragrance of bitter conviction ascends to heavenly places.
Pleased with the aroma of broken-hearted sacrifice, my beloved hastens his return.
*All italicized Scripture is taken from Song of Solomon 5:2-6 (KJV).
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