From scene to scene Mary changes her stance.
Just like me, she rarely gives Jesus a chance
to do the work he came here to do:
teaching, healing, and resuscitations, too.
We scream and cry of the stench of death,
forgetting the times when he gave us breath
to escape from our tombs, hands unbound,
getting up, hardly making a sound –
except to crumble at Jesus’ feet
when others are there taking up all the seats.
While Lazarus sits, and while Martha serves
we try our best to get up the nerve
to anoint him as Mary did, without a care
that alls he had to dry him with was her hair.