photo by Gian Cescon for unsplash
I let raindrops fall freely on my skin,
The sky’s gentle paint on the canvas of my face.
Whenever possible, I catch a snowflake on my cheek
And marvel at its melting like cream into coffee.
I wait all winter for my favorite lotion, sunlight,
Both serum and salve to every parched pore,
And soon the singing of my scalp in the heat
Reminds me to add my long-abandoned sunscreen.
In the shower I celebrate the soap bubbles
That glide across my arms, elegant ships on a calm sea.
Wrinkles here are met with fanfare,
Passport stamps of the time we’ve traversed together.
Each evening I slather my skin in wonder,
Every inch of it formed in hidden depths,
Every contour my companion these forty years.
My God, my God. What a holy thing.
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Beautiful celebration of incarnate grace! Thank you. I love the idea of wrinkles as passports.