Mary Magdalene has always felt to me like Jesus, most loyal follower. Even if she wasn’t at the Last Supper, I can imagine her being the one who set the table and prepared the meal. She feels like an everywoman – someone who carries the judgment and misunderstanding that so many women have faced, whether for past mistakes, perceived flaws, or simply for not fitting society’s expectations.

I don’t believe she was a prostitute. I think she was a strong, capable woman who may have simply been ahead of her time. People judged her and labeled her unfairly, but Jesus saw her for who she truly was – a good and faithful person. And really, that’s what all of us should strive to be. Great write, j

Powerful work, my friend.

Thank you, Thomas.
j.

Powerfully penned, Jacob. Not to mention she penned a gospel that was left out of the Bible, of course it was. A lot of sexist men in power, who never wanted women to be treated equally. Just my opinion. lol. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.

Damian

Well said, my friend. How can we possibly know those buried under thousands of years of dust, when we do not know those who live among us, friends we see and hear, and touch, who share our very houses, not even those who stare blankly back from mirrors?

What an enigmatic poem for an enigmatic figure. Perhaps it shall unravel the collective misunderstanding of the centuries and provide a new light for her.

Ah, it’s the eyes that capture the soul. The forests that we get lost within.
Your write tells us it is so for you. You describe it well.
Great write.

Dear Betty, the eyes are the mirrors of the soul. It is usually the first point of contact and it can be the one that leads into temptation lol. This is beautifully penned. Lovely writing. I have yet to post here. Still trying to navigate the strangeness.

Chris

You’re on a tear lately, Rob. Which is good for us as your audience!
You sir are truly a poet. Even if you scoff at such titles. LOL.
I love where this write took me, in my own visuals. just enough detail to create a scene, for us to be bystanders to with our own eyes in our brains.