Mary Magdalene

One summer eve in Galilee I stood before my open door; to me it seemed just one more night-- like all the others gone before. Someone would come and, passing by, would hear the tinkling of the bells, would see the garish harlot's robe and painted eyes beneath my veil. Someone, a man like all the rest-- it did not matter much to me-- a nobleman, Samaritan, a Roman or a Pharisee, someone would pause and with one glance strip me again of maiden pride, and leaving, later, never know the shame and shattered dreams I hide. O, he would think me very gay; he would not see my hollow heart nor hear me curse him for his pay. Just then I saw a band of men approaching down the narrow road; there should be one among that crowd aho wants the favors I bestow. Kind eyes met mine, and with one look, He saw what others could not see; He saw the hunger of my soul, my loneliness and misery. I only know that since that day I live to walk along with Him. His look of love has changed my life; I need not sell my love again. Tonight He dines at Simon's house__ all day the dusty paths we roamed; but, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed; small courtesies no one has shown. My love for Him! It rolls and swells till from His side I cannot stay; I will wash His feet with tears of love and with my hair wipe the sand away. Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson