alone in a stifling crowd, struggling, pushing through,
she reached out with the last of her strength;
the hem of his garment;
just a brush with her fingertips…
she staggered, gasped,
hand on her heart,
feeling her bent back straightening like a flower to the midday sun
it was as if, for years, her body had been grieving, weeping
and was suddenly embraced in eternal comfort
it was as if, for years, her body had been laboring
and suddenly she felt the fruit, the life in her arms, her back, her legs
it was as if, for years, the gravity that had always pulled her down to the earth
the way her insides felt twisted, dying, since forever
had suddenly reversed
and now it was spring, and the lightness of the air itself lifted her up
and she aged backward
while looking forward
to a materializing future
and her dirty dress clung
like an accidental wool coat on a warm spring day
and she couldn’t wait to get it off
and to dive, laughing, into a nearby stream.
He stopped.
His question (who touched me?)
a roadblock between her and the water
an invitation
all eyes on her
she stood as the outcast, the untouchable
but just a drop of eye contact from her Savior, smiling back at her
claimed her heart, and dissolved her shame
- she looked at Him- at them- full in the face-
she named her shame (already it seemed old) and announced its healing
a giggling, wondering testimony
“go in peace” He smiled back,
approving her wild desire to run to the stream
With delighted eyes
He watched the ripples of
her gratitude
undulate through the crowd
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