Friday, July 29, 2005

Just a Touch

Mark 5:25-34

Twelve years of blood
Unclean, cast out, cut off,
Pushing upstream
Through the crowds of Capernaum
Carrying nothing but hope, faith,
And the will to persevere.
Running from the doctors,
Too many to count,
Who took the money, only to add to my pain.
But this is not just a man.
The Messiah, Yahweh's earthly son,
The Annointed one
Just a touch of his cloak
A subtle brush of cloth across my palm
A tickle of his gown on my fingertips
And it could all be washed away.
I push, I reach, I feel it
His soft cloak upon my hand
So gently, tenderly,
Yet I feel its power.
He speaks,
"Daughter, your faith has healed you.
Go in peace."
And for the first time
I can.

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