Feast in the House of Simon

Feast in the House of Simon, El Greco

I am Mary, I stand weeping at his side.
A quiet soul, a sister for Martha,
I am the one who listens;
I was  never possessed, only labelled
by those who would wish to  keep me secret.
I have foreseen a vision of death so telling that
all I can do is anoint the holy man
in preparation for what is to come.
Aromatic myrhh and myrtle, saffron
and cinnamon, are filling the house of Simon
with their sweet fragrance.
From an alabaster cruse my soft hands
pour oil so gently onto the  parched skin of
my beloved Jesus, a highly precious
oil of muskroot, whose colour of amber
matches my long tresses.
Such is his power, this prophet, healer,
Son of God,  that by divine alchemy,
this act of love (and every other that
may come in any future world of fear)
will change me and all around me into gold.



Cait O’Connor

Another poem for Magpie Tales.  Many more interpretations can be read there, do visit.