Today's napo was to write a letter. In the spirit of the holiday, I wrote one to Mary Magdalene.
Letter to Mary Magdalene on Easter Sunday
Today, on this holy day of resurrection,
A preacher says your name, calls you a whore
As lilies bloom around his feet, as the stained glass
Shimmers with strength of Texas sun.
The word bristles against my heart.
I finger the Bible’s pages in my lap
And bit into my tongue. Even a whore
Can be forgiven, can be chosen, he says,
Then continues his story of faith
And miracles, of sunrises and eternity.
I think of the woman, two-thousand years ago,
Who kissed the feet of the fading, felt the warmth
Of blood on her trembling hands, who anointed
A lifeless body with spice and love, who saw
An empty tomb and wept at first in disbelief.
Isn’t that enough to be remembered as a saint?
You were beautiful but flawed, like everyone
Sitting in these pews, contemplating forgiveness
As we dream of being anywhere but here,
Of sloughing these tight church shoes,
Of running in the fresh cut grass of spring.
Virgin or whore, preacher or prostitute,
Why can’t your legacy, Mary Magdalene,
Be one of your faith and not your body?