Magdalene

Magdalene was not ashamed.
Her moon-like hands held up the sky
When she knelt beside the king
Her spiced hair dripping myrrh-balm.

Sweet dove’s eyes and angel’s knees,
A face both tranquil and contained.
Passion, prayer - all stemmed from her
Blood chalice to the knowing-one.

Scarlet secret, sun’s beloved,
Dark and comely feminine,
Sacred hor(a) spirit dancer,
Woman-spirit-yearning.

Sacred lovers without spot
Must laugh when envious poets lie.
Painting penitence on her face,
The moon they darkened over time.