Within them, vessels of sacred oils
broke, spilled, spread deep and down. 
Opening their eyes, they saw
the world born in living flesh, felt
the urgent pull of the untamed Spirit.
In that moment they dropped - everything.

What I might have seen, bursts of light, 
or felt, urgent tugs on my sleeve,
have left me with fitful thoughts
of life I might have missed along the way,
lost, when once I had found broken bits of it.
I turned them round and round in my hands, 
thought them lovely and then they were gone.
__________________________________________________________
Portland, Oregon - January 31, 2022

Writing this, I had three of the Sacred Vessels in mind.  They are the Buddha, Jesus, and Dorothy Day of New York.