I was so young and very beautiful. My hair long and full, brilliant brown; it flowed through the air as I walked like deep waves in the ocean, my hips dancing with the flow. My skin was smooth to the touch, the finish of marble that had been touched so often, almost golden like when you look up in the night sky and blend all the galaxies. My eyes were grey, green, a storm off the horizon with lashes that made camels jealous.
JUDAS
Judas hated me. His envy always ate at his soul. It was his to control but hadn't listened hard enough and focused all his strength on this. Only one thing would be able to help him, self control. He grabbed me like he owned me that last night. Nobody owned me. I was the owner. I was the owner of all the truth, I was conscious. Conscious to speak with the leaders and love them, not judge them but guide them. He hated the power he thought I had. It wasn't a power I yielded except in his head. Because if he had my knowledge he would have carried it like a sword falling on the neck of another. I was taught to keep the secrets, to keep the soul safe. He looked on me with disgust, sometimes he would kick sand on me when he walked by. I remember his feet. His left big toe nail was cracked and the yellow of diseased piss.
PILATE
He enjoyed it when others saw me come and go. He didn't mind the gawking eyes. If Caesar wouldn't be ashamed then why should he. That strength was comforting, not caring what others thought. His soul was tortured with dashed hopes. It never made sense to me. He had everything he needed and more; he had things he wanted.
He knew I loved dates, big, thick juicy and sweet ones. I could only eat one though. There was inevitably a bowl there for me to have, he got them in ways I hated at times. I always knew. I always heard of the sacrifices. They were just for me to do with as I desired. I never let that bowl go to waste. I took them all. Every. Time. He knew I didn't take them for myself. My pockets would flow over with treats for the children as I left. I waited till I was out of town to hand them out.
He wasn't how history portrayed him. His truth was pain of not having the ability to hold the mob back because he played by the rules. Command and rules managed Pilate. The women that didn't know me hated me. They were the mob. They were full of spite and self loathing. They projected their ugliness on me.
...He liked me in the afternoon when people would hide under fronds from the heat of the sun. A mid-afternoon taste sometimes and others we lay making sure our skin touched, his fingers traced my waist and hip, back and forth. Slow, methodically, with purpose. His touch lighting a fire deep in me. He would confide in me his worries and ask for the thoughts of the people. When he held me it was disciplined and tame. He would take my hair and his fingers ran through it. He held my head back and kissed my neck letting his tongue savor my salty skin, with tenderness you wouldn't have expected. He was never forceful but he was always determined. Pilate's virility was always at stake either on top of me or with the sword. It was in him. He was a warrior; a fighter, and a thoughtful.
Men were different then. The hierarchy was basal at times. The blood guard strolled down the stone streets like they owned them. Their job was to have a purpose like the rest of the people around me. Let them be weavers, beggars, or scribes...everyone needs a purpose. There was an understanding with some of us. There were deliberate and sensitive conversations we had huddled, we were always wary.
Pilate knew what we were doing the whole time and believed in our message. He welcomed it. He just didn't have the steadfastness we would need. Or he had the amount he was supposed too.
THE SANHEDRIN
That last night when Judas grabbed me...I wasn't physically strong, that's what the men are for...the strength of physical. He said he wanted to talk alone and I agreed. We walked away from the light of the fire and safety. He put his anemic hands on my shoulders and pushed me into the dirt. I landed on my hands. Bits of rocks cut in to my palms. He drove my face into the earth. Sand in my mouth, I tasted metal. It was just blood. He came behind me, heaved my hair towards him. I was his dog. He pulled my skirt and injected himself into me with ever molecule of hate he could muster. I fought him as much as I could. I yelled and screamed for help. It was just physical, that I could over come, the humility though...I thought that was bad. I was only human. We were all only human. All of us. One of the Sanhedrin were near by, heard me and came trotting as fast as his legs would move. I wish he hadn't. He saw what Judas was doing. There could be no denial. There were no thirty pieces of silver.
The price would be my Love. My true Love.
None of us imagined what would come next...
MARY
My name was Mary then. I'm called many names through time. I was a whore in their church and I was their true love. Their love was power over others.
One day I'll tell you a story.
Be still and listen
No comments:
Post a Comment