Mary Magdalene the Last Supper
Mary Magdalene. The last supper.
The last day I combed Christ’s hair
I knew I truly loved him,
It was matted and tangled, I believed there and then that we were not all perfect
people.
Nobody was.
I always liked a happy thought,
But I knew his mind could be dark and disagreeable,
His hair was stubborn and coarse
Like a Roman Soldiers mood.
As I pulled down hard to rid the tugs
I was aware of jealous eyes
As Judas Iscariot walked by.
His stony look said it all.
He would cut the Devils hair
If it meant he could kiss Christ’s cheek.
Copyright © Ned Flanders | Year Posted 2011
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