Photo credit: Joshua Sortino Her hands are tearing at her hair; she sobs. Clean cloths discarded, dropped amongst the dust, destroyed, along with priceless spices lost.   Two days since Friday’s foul and unjust death, an emptied grave steals closure for her grief, indignance adds to his degrading end.   And now a stranger's asking why she weeps.   How can I bear the silence and the shame? Me - and my sisters – welcomed in his world. Shall we be seen as lowly once again?   One