The tears fall unchecked. She moves to kiss him; to touch again that once warm body. Memories of the kindest of words overwhelm her. How could one so strong become so broken?
An unkind spear rips a hole in her cloak. A rough hand lifts her and cruel voices demand "get away from here. You were nothing to him!" She is pushed roughly down the hill.
In the time since she met him; she told no one that he had spoken to her too. And now? Could he really be gone like that? Had she really stood there mocking and afraid of the crowd?
Darkness covers the earth. The temple curtain splits in two and she sits weeping until her brothers demand she carries water and cooks a meal. 'What is it with you sister? Why should you care? Get along now or we will beat you?"
The nights are long. Tear streaks run rivers of salt into her hair and she turns over and over in her mind the question. "Why did I deny Him?"
Two Days pass. Deep in depression, no one can reach her. She longs so to hear his voice. If only in some way the dead could be raised.If only dead people came back to life and she could just tell him she was sorry.
On the third day they make her go to buy the food. "Sister, if you don't get up and feed us we are going to beat you." They yank her to her feet and push her to the door.
In the market place she meets Mary, In Mary's baskets are ointments and linens fit to bury a king. They pause and glance at each other and she lowers her eyes; a hot burning shame shakes her. Mary will never speak to her now! She hides her face and tries to turn away.
Her hand is in Mary's! How can this be? How can Mary forgive her? Yet together they cry more tears. In the market place; two women weeping for a man they loved. Tears of shame and loss fuse together.
Back home the guilt overwhelms her. If only she had at least walked to the cross with Mary. If only she had not been so afraid. She is just a little comforted from her meeting with Mary.
The hours pass. She sits still. Every so often another tear falls.
Mary enters the room. In a voice of compassion, breaking the darkness of the woman's spirit she utters the words. "He is risen! I have seen HIm. He sends His Word that He forgives you.
In the gloom of a plain whitewashed room; more tears. Grief is replaced by a cry of joy.
Her brothers pick up a stick to beat the women and are suprised by the strength of an unseen hand forcing them back and away. They will never raise a stick again for fear of that hand.
He is risen! All is well. The two women dance and cry and dance and cry till there are no more tears left and there is no more energy to dance with. Gentle tears of love sweeten the face of the Saviour.and His presence fills the room.