Mary Magdalene

In the quiet of ancient sands,
Where whispers of redemption linger,
Mary Magdalene walks, veiled in mystery,
Her footsteps etched upon the sacred earth.

Seven devils once clung to her soul,
Their shadows cast upon her heart,
Yet she emerged, reborn and resolute,
A witness to the cosmic dance of grace.

The first devil was busyness,
Its frantic rhythm drowning her spirit,
But Mary, unyielding, sought solace,
In the stillness of prayer and contemplation.

The second devil whispered difference,
A chasm between her and the world,
Yet she knew: pain and joy, shared by all,
Transcended the boundaries of flesh.

Worry, the third devil, gnawed at her,
Its teeth sharp as doubt, relentless,
Yet Mary’s faith held firm,
A beacon in the tempest of uncertainty.

Envy, disguised as compassion, crept forth,
The fourth devil’s cloak veiling her heart,
But Mary, with eyes wide open,
Saw the divine spark in every soul.

The fifth devil—the aphid, the mosquito,
Their tiny lives intertwined with hers,
She pondered their existence,
Their fragile forms echoing eternity.

And the dead—oh, the dead—
More alive to her than the living,
Their silent voices echoing through time,
Guiding her steps toward redemption.

Her sixth devil danced in symmetry,
An obsession with balance, with order,
Yet Mary knew: life’s chaos held beauty,
And brokenness birthed wholeness.

The seventh devil—the expelled breath,
The shared air of all creation,
It suffocated her, haunted her,
Until she longed for a sieve, a mask.

Mary Magdalene, witness to the cross,
Bearer of love’s ineffable weight,
Her tears anointing sacred feet,
Her devotion etched in cosmic memory.

So let us, too, walk the sands of revelation,
Embrace our devils, our sacred flaws,
For Mary’s legacy whispers:
In surrender, we find resurrection.