The Sacred Reunion and ruling from his throne---
by Margaret Starbird from her must-have book alone.
The Woman with the Alabaster Jar
But now, at last, he seeks her.
Shrouded in mists of time He calls for her.
she waits alone in the garden, He knows the name of the Rose.
veiled, her name obscured, Exhausted and parched
the forsaken Rose. in wretchedness,
Lost counterpart of Logos, the Word, she hears him call her name.
She stirs, raises her head, and looks around.
Son of the Father, "Who speaks?"
reason and righteousness,
the eternal He. Her heart beats faster.
Forgotten Eros, "Can it be he?
the passionate one, Has he returned at last for me?"
the eternal She,
left prostrate on the ground. The garden where he left her
is now a wasteland---
"The Bride is as dark--- scarred, dried, and shriveled.
but lovely--- Trees are stunted,
as the tents of Cedar. streams of living water
Do not stare at her because she is swarthy, only a trickle.
because the sun has burned her. Thickets of thorn
She has labored in her brothers' vineyards; surround the garden,
her own she has not kept." (Cant. 1:5-6) barring his way.
With the sword of truth
The Bride, he must hack them to pieces
parched from her toil to reach his beloved.
in the scorching sun,
dark, dried, and withered. At last he finds her,
Black Madonna, still clasping her alabaster jar.
mother of the afflicted poor, Her joyful tears fall at his feet.
God's raisins, A second time she dries them with her hair.
burned in the relentless rays But now he reaches for her hand.
of Logos, victor, judge, and sword. "Come, beloved; it is time.
Male image of a sovereign God Let us go together into the vineyard
raised to heaven's throne--- to see if the vines are in bloom." (Cant. 7:13)
alone. Hand in hand now,
they walk in the desert garden.
Eagerly she sought him, And where their feet tread
but watchmen came upon her, a violet springs up from the ground,
struck and wounded her, an anemone lifts its head.
the guardians of the walls. In their wake
Her plight is mirrored now buds swell on barren bough.
in Czestochowa's icon, "No longer will you be called 'forsaken'
a gash upon her cheek, and your lands 'desolate,'
the abused, abandoned one--- but you shall be called 'beloved,'
the Derelicta. and your lands 'espoused'" (Isa. 62:4)
Noli me tangere: He whispers her name,
"Do not touch me," savoring its taste
For centuries the echo: delighting in the Bride of his longing.
Noli me tangere. Mary...
The Ascended One,
adored and glorified---
the handsome prince,
Lion of Judah and Lamb of God
seated at the Father's hand