The Rushed Magdalene
"The Rushed Magdalene"
I consort with birds
black ink-winged words,
they fly swiftly to me in murderous flocks from places unknown,
their stories yet to be heard from the accused docks
1682, Devon
The cases of misjudged women
packed up neatly
and sent on their way
the verdict heaven sent
innocence stolen, innocence lost,
a sordid sacrament
deliverance harsh, the judgment bent
I consort with the dead, that Ghost
he takes possession of me
whispers warrior words out through my lips
a silent communion, making eternal promises
he’s a quick read, to study and torment
he says he’s risen, he’s coming back again
I once poured my thoughts into him
anointing his mind with perfumed dreams
inside me moves the rushed blood of Magdalene
inside the well-lit pyre now burning
the captured stakes are high -
men and their battles.
Women. Examples.
Through my lips now speaks My mind, its flaming incantations:
Rushes like embers held tight burning fly high
Reflect all manna of things in silent witness eyes
Judgment for all now burning bright, the spikenard applied the match lit
Speaks the untouchable dark night, 'tis no time to read prayer books and sit
no lamenting, no limitations
some women can be a whole lot of trouble
or trouble in the making
Candide Diderot. ‘26
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