between the eyes
they put the red
a dot
millions of dots
centered
on millions of heads
a drop
a billion drops
spilled
for a billion heads
by One who came
as blood-dripping vine
supplying life to grafted branches
whose vein still bleeds,
pulses, offers
drops of life
the dot–
I wear one too
invisible to you
as a finger touches
my forehead
leaves a fingerprint
I am changed forever
by drops of red
***
Just returned from a 3 week trip to India, where I saw hundreds of women wearing the traditional “bindi”, the infamous “red dot’on the forehead… and it reminded me of the painting by Michelangelo where God’s finger is reaching out to Adam… which reminded me that God’s arms are not too short to reach anyone…. that His hand is reaching out to touch our heads as a parent touches a child… Well those are my thoughts, and what inspired this poem.
painted a beautiful picture you have
love this. it will change the way i view the bindis i see in my own area, beautiful!
oops, should have been a period after area. sore fingers make bad typing. 🙂
Pour over me the drops of red, and give me His life that flowed so freely for man kind!
This just takes my breath away. Especially in light of your explanation. I agree with Tinuviel–you have forever changed the way I will see the bindis. So, so touching.
oh. wow. i am speechless….
stunning imagery, and parallel, friend… thank you.
This is mystery, this mark we bear. Do the angels see it, or maybe demons? I love this. It is very well-written, and I LOVE it when poets include the background to their poetry. Thank you for sharing this. I would love to see you at Painting Prose, where those of us who used to congregate at Imperfect Prose are hanging out for a while.
thank you. that was perfect. clearly impassioned but not sentimental or contrived. It challenges me to consider that not only am I changed by the blood of Christ, but that my spirit should be moved to care about those who don’t know his blood was shed for them, too.