Mary Magdalene
Jesus forgive me.
I am bathed in the blood,
I have drunk the wine--have tasted the bread
of sin and deceit, of time
and of decadence and,
here on my knees, in mud, in muck,
I wait, in rain, in lightning--
Jesus forgive me, I desire the unforgivable.
Lay me down Lord,
on gravel, on dust,
take my body in your arms,
my throat in your mouth and suck me dry.
I'd ask for absolution but I love
this darkness,
love the taste of it as
it drips from the stars,
love the feel of her hands on my hips
his voice in my ear.
Jesus forgive, I know not what I ask,
though I know what I am,
taken as I am with trangression and vice
with depravity and sin on my knees
in the cloudless room--waiting, waiting, waiting for him.
Jehovah called me a whore--
Peter said I was fallen--
Gabriel said I could not be saved--
but You loved me, hard and tight
in a smoke filled suffocating room.
You aroused me into submittance and
I wept at your feet--
Jesus, do you forgive only in heaven?
If so, I will remain impious,
it was your gift--
this immortality, this pleasing wickedness--
and now, like the rest, I wait.
We are your second children,
born from your temptation
and your humanness--
bathed in the blood
bred on the flesh,
waiting, waiting, watching
for your second coming.
--Kristina Snowden