The Remembered Woman

 
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They recline at the table,

And speak of the Law,

She walks in quietly and doesn’t say a word,

Last night,

She took a blunt blade and scraped all the oil in,

She scraped it off her hands,

And filled her jar to the brim,

 

‘O! if only he knew where her hands had been!’

 

‘Yes Simon, I know. And now I want to tell you something:

This woman understands the Law,

She’s poured herself out,

Tell me, what have you given me?

Don’t speak of things you know nothing about’

 

Her tears mingle with drool from her nose as she wipes his feet with her hair,

 

‘O what a waste! If only this was sold for the poor!’

 

‘Yes Judas. But soon you won’t have me anymore’

 

She hides her face away behind his feet,

Pouring herself out like the very perfume she holds,

She is branded a wasteful prostitute,

‘Stop touching him! Stop wasting all that perfume!

Who do you think you are?’

 

She is the woman who loved much,

Because she was forgiven much,

And like glorious water,

Her memory gushes down two millennia,

Calling us to do the same.

 
 

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