The Diary of Mary Magdalene: Poems from Christ's Wife

I wanted a bleeding god!

I wanted a bleeding god
Oh lord! I wanted a bleeding
God! One who gives of his body
Like bread, one whose limbs and
Tongue fill winebushes. One whose
Mouth is fiery swords, piece my breast,
I wanted a bleeding god!

I wanted a god of the earth! I wanted rain,
Thunder, the ocean. A fish may not swim
Against the current unless He carries her
On –

I wanted a bleeding god.

I wanted a god who laughs. Oh, whose
Mirth is a Wedding at Cana! I wanted a son
Of a carpenter and heir to starborn Mary.

I wanted the son of a carpenter!

I want to don sackcloth and ash, devour
Locust and honey – oh, I wanted to bleed
Like the Magdalene for my god, run naked
With Gallic hounds to shout – Arise, Peter,
He walks from the tomb! But I am afraid,
So I crawl, a sinner, towards

My bleeding, tender god.

I wanted a god with wounds. Oh, a tender
God of wounds! Five wounds like the pentagram,
His ancient iconography, before flatulent occultists
Raped the sages of alchemy and Kybalion into
Scrub-necked demonic sigils. I want a Master of Men!

I want the Heart of Mercy! Shrouded in garlands of His Light!
Oh, a God of Peace! Oh, a Prince of this World! He bleeds –
He bleeds? For me! Oh, piteous, mewling me, thorn in my side,
Unworthy, thimble-shell me? Oh, the god that bleeds!

He rides a bent over donkey. He raises the dead. He is tempted
And triumphs, does his laundry with tears, oh, a god of poor souls!
A poet, a healer, a warrior! White haired in lightning in End Times,
Charging against the hordes, my God is a Conquerer!

My God bleeds, my God
Bleeds!

And I bleed each moon
With him, I drink down
Psalms, I long for the blood
To wash over, cleanse, refill
The hunger
In me.

Oh, to be joined in flesh and hunger
To my scourged, arisen God!
Mortification! Annihilation as Adonai welcomes me
Into the Awe-filled Deep! Darkness is the Heart of God,
And I has sojourned through vales, I am in a valley of shadow.

Demons test, infidels draw me to Baals and Molochs.

But I have
A god
Who bleeds.

I cup the blood
Of wine.

I drink the juice of ichor.
I worship his pure mind,
The mind of a bleeding god!
Lord of the Dance!

I have a bleeding, dancing
God!

So how can I not be joyous?
How can I not smile, through torture?

I have a god
Who bleeds.