Speak not of Peter.

Nor Andrew.

James.

Philip.

Bartholomew.

Mathew.

Thomas.

James, the son of Alphaeus.

Simon the Zealot.

Thaddeus.

Not even Judas. Speak instead,

of the thirteenth Apostle.

Mary of Magdala.

Mary who washed His feet.

Mary at the cross.

Mary of wayward women.

Apostle to the Apostles.

Mary how long did you wait to wash your hair?

Did you rush to the cross to get the ichor on you, because you'd take anything as long as it was from Him.

Mary, they called you a reformed w****,

combined you with the unnamed sinner,

as though your name wasn't written twelve sacred times.

As though those holy by extension men wouldn't have called you by name.

You, who Yeshua showed Himself first.

Was your hair a mess after that? When before you were proud and you kept it richly oiled, did it become a lions mane?

Did you run your hands through it when it was stiff with sea salt and ministry?

Mary, is there a way to keep faith and adoration seperate?

Mary, did you even try?