Easter Morning Whore

To Mary Magdalene

Butterflies

all in a

winged

rhyme.

Rays

of

tiny

blue

birds

singing

songs of joy.

A young woman with lovely crimson hair, her long flowing sapphire robe floating in the light Spring breeze.

In her hand she held a lovely spray of ivory lilies for the only Man she had ever truly believed or loved.

Crucified by

those who

feared

Him.

To

his

crypt

now

she

softly

tread

.

To her astonishment, the tomb was empty. Great fear gripped her as she began flee.

But as she turned, a joyous scene appeared. The man she loved was alive and standing there for her to see.

She couldn't embrace him, he said not yet. Instead he told her to go and proclaim that he had truly arisen.

Apostle to the Apostles she was to be proclaimed, although for centuries she was known as the adulterous

whore.

This poem is written for a woman who was feared for her wisdom by the men who ruled over her.

© Copyright 2006 G. Jones