A
cluster of bodies.
Clamor
to see…to hear.
Crushed
all together,
Watching
as the boat’s steered.
Hands
over brows
Faces
to sun
Yearning
but sad,
To
see no more that was done.
Watching
oar break water
Backs
turned toward me
Hurting,
despairing,
Will
He return and be…
Will
He be the one,
The
physician who heals;
Or
will I go alone,
Walking
shamefully still?
Heard
rumors, stories,
Healings
He’s done by power;
Want
restoration, peace,
No
more to be dour.
What
more can be lost;
All
is gone now?
Am
unclean, impure,
Yet,
I want, must believe, no loss, no how.
The
shame, people fear my touch
Though
nothing I can do;
Tried
it all with no change
As
I beheld each moon.
Washed
and never dirty,
Still
seen ever the same,
Unclean,
deserted, shamed
Knowing,
must believe, it can be changed.
Faith
that all had been lost
These
now twelve years past,
Dare
I hope and not despair;
Are
the rumors and whispers true, dare I ask?
Oh,
murmurs like a raging river
Silence
like chaos restrained,
Heart
beats ever quicker,
Is
it true, the boat’s heading this way?
Hands
raised to brow
Searching,
seeking for last hope,
Where
will the boat land this time?
Is
He even on the boat?
Heartbeats
chase whispers,
The
sound, a rapid rush;
Will
this be the day?
My
hope, my life, to have I must.
Gasp,
catching my breath,
Be
still, we may not meet;
Yet,
the thunder of the tales,
Surely,
surely, I must encounter, greet.
The
bow beached, oars aglisten,
The
splashing in me echoes,
Is
this my time, I ask?
My
heart cries, yes, step out. Go!
Still,
I shrink back in the crowd;
They
walk forward,
Then,
I begin to think
Nothing
lost; go onward.
From
the back, pushing forward,
Touching
arms and hips as I go,
Reaching
out, just the hem;
I
stretch and touch His cloak.
Instantly,
I feel the blood runs no more.
At
once, I’m not weak,
Not
fatigued.
Hope
latched-onto brought me peace.
In
my solace, not agony,
Inside,
all is renewed,
Considering
the tales of this teacher
Renowned
for His power imbued.
I
hear His voice asking,
“Who
just touched my cloak?”
I
step back and tremble,
Stomach
in throat and I choke.
He
knew. How did He know?
None
other asked who touched them.
But
He knows and looks at me;
I’m
caught; tell Him I touched His hem.
I
fall at His feet;
In
fear, I tremble;
What’s
the cost; I have nothing?
What
more can I possibly give?
Instead
of reproving, His look shows love,
His
eyes show the strength of His care;
He
calls me “daughter”
And
with His voice, I am spared.
More
than social restoration,
More
than my healing,
He
said, “Your faith healed you.
Go
in peace, be free of your illness.”
He
addressed me;
He
declared me clean.
I’m
restored to the people
I
can worship with others again.
I
can go to the market.
I
can wash my clothes with the women.
I
can sit where I want.
I
can be touched and hugged again.
Oh,
the kindnesses I can enjoy,
But
nothing e’er can surpass,
The
greatest kindness given to me,
When
the teacher came by me to pass.
The
story I can tell,
Of
the restoration He gave.
New
health and growing belief;
He’s
a teacher with power, and people wonder can He save?
Come
to the teacher.
Hear
and follow Him, too.
Come
with your burden;
He
can heal and make you new.
(Mark
5:24-34)
