Healing of the paralytic (Luke 5:17-26)
When my friends came
I was propped,
Watching the children play
Trying, as I watched their joy
To ignore for a moment
Memories of when I too would run,
Or sit at their side,
Holding them close
To comfort them.
They told me their plan,
To take me to the rabbi.
Someone special, they said,
A miracle-worker.
I laughed.
But they would not be dissuaded,
So, ignoring my embarrassment,
They hoisted me on a pallet,
Walked me to the house
Where the rabbi was talking.
So many emotions battled inside:
The tiniest glimmer of hope,
So easily choked
By years of despairing immobility,
A rigidity of soul
As much as of legs.
So I was almost relieved to see the crowd
And know they could not reach him.
Undeterred, caring neither for the destruction
Of his roof nor my humiliation,
They found a way,
And I was at his feet.
He looked at me.
And I knew in that instant,
Regardless of his words,
That he had seen me in a way
That no-one else had,
Enfolding all that held me captive
In his forgiving love.
I do not care about their religious debates.
I only know that this man healed me.
In every way.
By Jeannie Kendall