A Woman of the Street

A Woman of the Street

They thought at first
she was a servant girl,
come to replenish the wine,
and paid her no notice.
But when she knelt
at the Master’s feet,
and the fragrance filled the room,
the talking ceased and
all eyes turned upon her.
As she sobbed,
they whispered.
“A woman of the street . . .”
“Why does he even let her touch him?”
“Shameless!”
Folded upon herself,
her forehead on his feet,
her sobs broke louder,
and with the long black tresses of her hair
she wiped her tears from his feet.
She’d heard him earlier that day
talking of forgiveness.
Was there forgiveness for her?
A woman of the street?
It was his voice that raised her head.
She sought his eyes
And found no condemnation there!