April 06, 2015
Nails shot through ankle bones, back arched into spiking splinters, blood-eagled God stretched against a wooden curse. Magdalene, see that cup, overflowing, flowing oil out on your feet. See that cup poured out, for your burial. Your death. See that face which rips the Temple shroud, and yours. Your dirty knees press into the stones where life is death. Hide sun, cease your song. Stars, grow cold at this sacrifice: Through the battlements and gate of Hell is led a Trojan horse, against the iron wall and fate of Death is marched life’s source. Death, see that cup, overflowing, flowing blood and water. See that cup poured out, for your defeat. Your death. Magdalene, see that cracked stone. See the lily, pure against the bloody field. See that face, the master of the banquet, a gardener so real the tomb was breathy spirit. See those hands and feet, nail-gashed for your resurrection. Your life.
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