My name is behind me
Holding my missing heart in her mighty hands
Like a cup of rose oil
From the town of Magdala
On the Sea of Galilee
In the land of fertile soil.
She is a Hebrew tower of strength
Weak with love, dizzy with fear.
The stony rain will fall at length
If not stopped by a single tear
Of unorthodox forgiveness
Followed by a list of sins scribbled in the sand.
Speechless, she will stand
In her stunned and lonely loveliness
Purified but still unsure
Demure, almost pure
Cured without a cure.
He will speak and let her go
So she can find what she doesn't seek
The other cheek
A rose that will grow.
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