Poetry: The Gospel acc. to Mary Magdalene They said stories about me,around the fire and the marketplace''She is Hades'', they said''She lives rotten & breaths death'', they saidBut they didn't know,I heard it all, they heard it all-torturous, spiteful beings, who dimmed the light from my eyesUntil one day I felt them cower-from the hands of a Man, in whose eyes I saw them trembleHis touch unblemished me,cleansed me, forgave meloved me, set me free//I stayed with Him, till they took HimThey took Him- poor, terrible menWhat did they know?Whom did they know?His palms, His feet,His face, His criesI swear I could smell His painA mother & a brother to behold,He looked at meI couldn't leave Him,I didn't leave HimI cleaned His wounds with my unblemished hands-kissed His sweet-smelling feet,and left my heart in the cold, dark of His ground//I hear them say stories about mearound the fire & from pulpits''She kissed His resurrection robes'', they say''She loved Him so'', they say'The first witness', they call mebut He knows I'd rather be-Mary of Magdala, penitent sinner-Rabboni's beloved.
They said stories about me,around the fire and the marketplace''She is Hades'', they said''She lives rotten & breaths death'', they saidBut they didn't know,I heard it all, they heard it all-torturous, spiteful beings, who dimmed the light from my eyesUntil one day I felt them cower-from the hands of a Man, in whose eyes I saw them trembleHis touch unblemished me,cleansed me, forgave meloved me, set me free//I stayed with Him, till they took HimThey took Him- poor, terrible menWhat did they know?Whom did they know?His palms, His feet,His face, His criesI swear I could smell His painA mother & a brother to behold,He looked at meI couldn't leave Him,I didn't leave HimI cleaned His wounds with my unblemished hands-kissed His sweet-smelling feet,and left my heart in the cold, dark of His ground//I hear them say stories about mearound the fire & from pulpits''She kissed His resurrection robes'', they say''She loved Him so'', they say'The first witness', they call mebut He knows I'd rather be-Mary of Magdala, penitent sinner-Rabboni's beloved.