Jesus once healed a blind man

with spit

and dirt.

Theologians teach that this was a sign

of humility

and surrender.

Maybe so.

Or maybe my dog is right, and it’s a sign

of love

and acceptance –

The healing power of grace expressed

with intimacy

and immediacy.

I wonder.

Maybe the sole purpose of my dog’s tongue is to remind me

of gentleness

and mercy

And the healing properties of spit when properly applied

with love

and just enough dirt.

*A little note about this post: The poem was inspired by our German shepherd, Brook, who refuses to let me cry alone.  If she hears a sniffle or smells a tear about to drop, she comes to wherever I am and sits with me.  Sometimes she actually tries to lick the tears off my face, and she always sits close enough to rest her head on my shoulder or lap.  The photo is an old picture of Bear eating a candied apple, which really has nothing to do with the poem except that it’s the best dog tongue picture I’ve got.