Mary Magdalene
the day he died
the day life left his tortured flesh
you were there
the execution ended
they lowered him from the cross
what remained of him
you held his corpse
in your grieving arms
your cheek to his
the god took away
his manhood and soul
cast off his body
you wept
you cried
like a child
gone were his followers
they all abandoned him
they did not love him
you sat there
alone with him
your tear washing his face
you loved him
your bosom was his only pillow
upon which he found his last rest
in death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Absolutely lovely! Beautiful narrative piece elegantly brought forth in good diction with spiritual insight. Thanks for sharing and do remain blessed.