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Remember this one? my Jesus book, almost better than my witch book.


Mary Magdalene’s Discovery




Every bird in a scarf was a heart
set on fire and leaping from his
hand when he revealed my face,


seeing him dream through the
better part of me by reaching
through hazy days and humid


nights, touching me with tender
moments weaving in and out of
our day like yarn. In the end,


every drop of rain was enough
to put out the eyes, put out the
careless speech that rolled over


their tongues in mockery.
Where did he go? The man with
a thousand songs brushed from


his fingertips like ointment on
my sores, longing to hear him
yet again spread his good news


through the streets of Jerusalem,
longing to hold his gaze on me
like a piercing sun that also takes


the fruit and makes our sweet talk
heal the ache of a thousand men
we have yet to call brothers.


Where did he go? The man who
was laid in this tomb with dead
sorrow making hard the rock that




was there and in our throats, making
hard the deliverance and yet it was
done when a thousand birds scream


in the bush like flames, when a
thousand dreams delight in the
night like stars tucked deep away


from seeing, it was done and I
will tell them he is risen, brushed off
the death of a world like dust


and made the nations breathe
life into the heavens through him.
The man I loved through each


season he took on and off his
holiness like burlap he packed
his heart and soul and set out


like a man who couldn’t fail.
He is risen, Alleluia! The man
I loved with a pink passion of skies.










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