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Michael Rose's avatar

I think you would appreciate this poem (reposted by Deborah King):

magdalene

her name means tower

not whore

not sinner

not infidel of the seven

devils

they labeled her

less-than

because they feared

what her tower held

not sin but scripture

not shame but sacredness

not filth but flame

a tower of truth

but towers fall, don’t they?

when men build stories

from stone

and forget the word

was born in woman’s body

at the edge of things

cracked open with knowing

she was never the footnote

not the soft epilogue

to his ministry

she was his equal

mirror to messiah

goddess to god

his counter-spell

his mirror myth

his ritual in red

not whore not slave

but beloved

a woman undone

by the very thing

that made her divine:

her desire

but listen, love—

she didn’t break the jar

because she was desperate

she broke it

because she was called

called to speak

when silence was safer

called to stay

when the others fled

called to embody

the towering truth:

that strength and softness

are not separate

that holiness can wear hips

that god grew inside a womb

but also walked beside one

loved and worshipped one

when the world bloomed

in bruises and blessings

this kind of power

will not do

if we let a woman

be beloved

be equal

be tower

what’s next?

a tabernacle?

a sanctuary?

a truth that eclipses all the lies

of smallness and inferiority?

so they silenced her

with ink and pulpit

turned her hips into heresy

her hair into sin

her hands into something

not fit to beckon or bless

they scraped the sacred

from her body

and called it repentance

scrubbed her clean

of her wildness

tried to bleach her into silence

folded her

into a cautionary tale

the scarlet stain

on holy scrolls

but history is porous

and so is the grave

after centuries of redacted gospel

after pulpits built on her silence

she is waking from shadow

in boots of fervor

incense clinging to the brazier

of her spine

this is not a tale of repentance

this is a story of

theft

and now

it is a tale of return

another kind of resurrection

the tower stands again, friends

not in lace and halos

but barefoot

with red clay on her soles

and a voice like an earthquake

wrapped in linen

she does not walk back into scripture

she bursts through the margins

mud-footed and mythic

pulling the divine back into the body

she has risen again

not with trumpets

but with soil under her nails

the rhizome gospel

under her tongue

green and feral

and determined to grow

she’s coming back

to reclaim

every woman

called ruin

for daring to know spirit

by touch

and tenderness

she’s here to walk

the crooked path again

the one where myth

and marrow meet

she is not looking for apology

she is looking for fire

in the eyes of humans

who remember

that holiness

can wear hips

that sacredness

is not silence

and that sometimes

the most faithful thing

you can do

is stand tall

a tower of truth

a sentinel at the beginning

of a new story

rooted in love

that outlasts hatred

a tower of belonging

that outshines fear

poem "Magdalene's Tower" by Angi Sullins from the upcoming book "unmasking a myth"

you can always share my work --we heal better together, and our mission is belonging. help me in this revolution by spreading the word.

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Shelly Shepherd's avatar

I shared these words with Mary Magdalene on my walk today and then wrote them down in my GirlChurch post today..

She was the first Apostle

She was the first Evangelist

She was the first Jesus asked to ‘Go and Tell’

She launched church… a church beyond the temple…

the Way of Mary Magdalene is a model of expansive love…

She found favor with Jesus and he found favor with her.

I love her… it seems you do as well Aleksander ❤️

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