Feet

 Her feet were baptized in dew that morning. 

The one which now seems a dream. 

All the grief and pain, dying inside, 

As she thought, knew they were that cruel. 

His body taken away and hidden. 

She hoped it was wrong, what she saw. 

But Peter and the disciple Jesus love came. 

Empty was the tomb, just as before. 

Crying, desolate, blinded by tears. 

She sees what she expected, a gardener. 

Then, she asks, pleads desperate to find him. 

“Mary,” he says, and her soul knows who. 

All because her feet were baptized in dew.