Martha

The house in Jericho, where all the white
roses embraced around the window panes,
while from the inside wafts of baking stirred
and laughter rose and fell into the night.

Martha again worked hard, sure to impress
with precious foods, the tail end of a fish
smothered in herbs. The cool white wine
felt on His tongue as sweet as a caress.

He leant against the white washed walls ahead
where Mary stood with only eyes for Him
and in the candle light her face shone out
with deep belief and trust in all he said.

But Martha felt exhausted in distress.
Till midnight had she worked the day before
and hoped that He, the master, would admit
her loyalty and care and thoughtfulness.

He only looked at Mary though, in praise
of her belief in the truth of his message
He watched her listening to all his words
and deep in thoughts responding to His gaze.

When Martha left the room she felt despair,
sought shelter outside underneath the roses
breathing in scents as she had breathed His words
and when she breathed them out, she said a prayer.