Magdalene

(Picture found here)

For days afterwards late Spring took its course.

A north wind came through the window-slats

and plovers returned to walk on water.

In the shorter shadows the city’s groves

filled out with leaves, promised black olives

as clouds wept and bowed over the temple.

We broke bread on the roof. Said fumbling prayers

to keep the hours, returned to usual squares,

gathered each evening in our knit circles.

It was all we could do to live, despite

the wanting the waiting or the altered light

of that once-opened sky, blue as a miracle.

In time we grew acquainted with the weight

of wonder, thought less of the mystery of things,

thought them more believable. Some went back

to Galilee. Others made for other seas,

nets and fresh tackle. I watched them leave,

then stood alone in the tug of wild hyssop

at the city’s sleeve, strong as love or the facts

of being known: brief night, the lightness of stone.

~Theophilus Kwek