A Jesus and Mary Poem

There is a poem Jesus wrote
that now like a fingerprint,
has an identity in my words.

He wrote it for Mary Magdalene;
it tells of their escape
in the early dawn, their travels together
and their homecoming
somewhere in Greece or Turkey.

They built a little stone house
and planted olive groves there.
Every once in awhile
they would lead their donkeys out of the stable
and ride to the nearest village
to sell and buy provisions.

No one guessed they were exiled poets,
for foreign accents were common
in that part of the world and in that time.
People traded and went
unhindered by borders and boundaries.

They lived long under the sun
and wrote many love-poems,
one of which is engraved upon all of my fingers
and toes.

Even today I can walk in their footsteps
and write love-poems
that have a trace of Jesus and Mary in them.

A certain piquancy of a rich provincial olive oil.
A poem that speaks of its heritage,
as it travels this secret history of love.