April 14, 2006

"Magdalen's Song" by Geoffrey Philp

Magdalen’s Song

And what will happen to us
now that they have killed him?
Who will be there to tell us
never to bow, never to bend,
but to follow our star
out of our Gardens of Gethsemane?

We walked with him on the way,
but not to be free like this
with his mother,
broken like his body
hanging from a tree,
digging her finger in the dirt,
as if by burying her tears,
she could bring him back from the dead?

And now there’s no one left
except her, the boy, and me—
the men deserted him to the Romans
who knew I would have died beside him
when they held their swords to my throat,
and looked in my eyes and laughed,
not because they wouldn’t have crucified me,
but they had known me before
only as the woman with seven demons,
but now I was only a woman
looking up at a dead man,
almost like he was a forgotten lover--
black wings hovering behind the clouds.

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