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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 said

But they didn't know,
I heard it all, they heard it all-
torturous, spiteful beings, who dimmed the light from my eyes

Until one day I felt them cower-
from the hands of a Man, in whose eyes I saw them tremble
His touch unblemished me,
cleansed me, forgave me
loved me,
set me free


I stayed with Him, till they took Him
They took Him- poor, terrible men
What did they know?
Whom did they know?

His palms, His feet,
His face, His cries
I swear I could smell His pain
A mother & a brother to behold,
He looked at me

I couldn't leave Him,
I didn't leave Him

I 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 me
around the fire & from pulpits
''She kissed His resurrection robes'', they say
''She loved Him so'', they say
'The first witness', they call me

but He knows I'd rather be-

Mary of Magdala,
penitent sinner-
Rabboni's beloved.
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