I grew up on wholesome stories
of girls who grew to beautiful womanhood,
stumbling just a bit over hurdles of vanity, selfishness,
or temper, and chastened soon to sweetness.
I taught myself to shrink from the silly and the crude--
grew adept at disguising the darkness within myself.
I've been told my smile is lovely and to keep it up,
but I am enthralled by the spill of a fallen woman's tears,
her audacious outpouring over our Lord's dusty feet. The real scandal:
His prodigality of forgiveness and her answering love.
of girls who grew to beautiful womanhood,
stumbling just a bit over hurdles of vanity, selfishness,
or temper, and chastened soon to sweetness.
I taught myself to shrink from the silly and the crude--
grew adept at disguising the darkness within myself.
I've been told my smile is lovely and to keep it up,
but I am enthralled by the spill of a fallen woman's tears,
her audacious outpouring over our Lord's dusty feet. The real scandal:
His prodigality of forgiveness and her answering love.
Yes. Perhaps even yes! with an exclamation point.
ReplyDeleteThe picture that the Gospel paints -- it is poetically inexhaustible, is it not? I am flag, very glad, to read your poem on the subject.
And technically I admire the subtle perfection of the line "but I am enthralled by the spill of a fallen woman's tears" -- the Ls!
Yes, that story really stood out to me last time I read it. Can you imagine the audacity (and depth of feeling) involved? Especially as woman in that culture?
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