The Bowl of Holy Water (Aspergillum (third reprise))

Lyrics

[Intro]
The sacristy smells of old wax and prayer books.
It is quiet before the bell rings.
The bronze aspersorium sits on the oak chest.
The water inside is still.

[Verse 1]
The first time, my sleeve was soaked.
The second time, a puddle spread on the stone floor.
Reverend Goss was patient.
He said, 'Not from the shoulder, child. Not the elbow.'
He said, 'The blessing is in the wrist.'
My wrist was a stiff, clumsy thing.

[Chorus]
Just a flick.
A small, sharp turn.
Like shaking a drop of ink from a pen.
He said it should land like dew, not like rain.
A fine mist to cleanse the air.
A blessing, not a bath.

[Verse 2]
Today, I am alone with the silver tool.
It is heavier than it looks.
The handle is worn smooth from other hands.
I dip the perforated star into the bowl.
The water is cold. It smells of stone and metal.
I lift it. A single drop falls back with a quiet 'plink'.

[Chorus]
Just a flick.
A small, sharp turn.
Like shaking a drop of ink from a pen.
He said it should land like dew, not like rain.
A fine mist to cleanse the air.
A blessing, not a bath.

[Bridge]
I remember what Pemba taught me with the calligraphy brush.
The line begins before the ink touches the paper.
It begins in the breath.
I hold the silver handle like a brush.
I breathe in the quiet room.
I think of the word Durandus wrote in 1286.
Cleansing.

[Outro]
I lift.
I turn my wrist.
A perfect arc of mist hangs in the light from the window.
It settles without a sound.
No splash.
Just dew.
I am ready.