Mary Magdalene
She stood before his silent stare alone
Behind her howled the frantic arms of death
That once subdued her will, besmerged her bone
With the rancid ravaging of their breath.
She felt transparent as their condemning tongue
Shifted the weight of guilt to her for crimes
That senseless passions savaged reeked. She hung
Her eyes upon his face of love, the slimes
Of sin indulgent wage demand his justice
But he ignoring them wrote in the sand,
And she to his mercy bowed, eyes in mist
She touched her Creator's kind, tender hand.
And in the putrid purity of heart she
Pined to pour him oil and serve his mercy.
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The years, itinerant moments, fled fast
Along the dusty ways the marked preacher past
And many heard him, and many feared him
Shackled to the lucre vain, future grim
In the mission since eternity set
To ransome all the world through savage death
And one from his audience bait her breath
Her love flowering for him that met
Her condemnation with mercy most kind
And so at Bethany's feast she knelt bare
Feet to touch, devotion unspooled her hair
To mop them, moistened with tears and oil. Find
In history's annals an act more divine:
Mary's love preparing the Christ for his shrine.
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