Sunday, April 14, 2013

A Poem about Mary of Bethany



Lord, I’ve come to curl up

close to Your sandals

like Mary of Bethany

my ears primed

to absorb each word You speak

I’ve tuned out concerns

that would pull me

from this footstool

and will not be bothered

by deeds or distractions

that would drown Your voice

If Martha insists

on doing busy-work

she must do it alone

for nothing is more important to me

than sitting right here

right now, with You


and I will wail

at Your sacred feet

like Mary of Bethany

when my strength falters –

I shall wrap my quivering arms

around Your sturdy ankles

allow my tears to run in rivulets

down Your dusty feet –

stir You to weep, too

till resurrection happens


but especially, Lord

I long to anoint Your precious feet

like Mary of Bethany

and come with all that I have

as she, bearing nard

for I, too, yearn to soothe

with pure, lavish fragrance

the calloused heels and soles

toes and arches

I, too, know well –

the very feet that carried Good News

to my ears and heart –

beautiful feet, bleeding feet

pierced through for me

I shall unpin my hair, humbly

like Mary of Bethany

take Your dust

as diamonds, upon me

I desire to be, unto you, Lord

a sweet aroma


and if I be scolded, as was she

by one who couldn’t possibly understand

so be it

so be it


Maude Carolan Pych



The above poem is part three of a trilogy of entitled, Three Marys. The first poem of the trilogy is about Mary, the mother of Jesus; the second, about Mary of Magdala, was published here last week.

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