Pausing , she watched the crowd
revolving like a multi coloured
tufted rag disc coming toward her
along the street.

People hurried, joining the moving
throng, trying to weave into its midst.
Others hung back silent, while the
hostile arrogant voiced their
self-righteous pride.

The rhythm of cooing doves nearby
seemed to say what her heart
was telling her “this is he”, “this is he”.
A deep warm longing filled her;
feeling drawn, she moved closer,
pushing her way into the crowd.

Sick, unloved, abused and despised,
closing her mind to insults of the
haughty, ignoring cruel hard jabs to
her body, she moved deeper into
the crowd. Elegant robed
people hissed at her, she had ears
for only one voice.

Mixed voices of praise, jeering,
questioning, echoed around her, while
the gentle mannered one walking in
their midst, spoke patiently, lovingly,
like a parent or teacher would to
jostling inquisitive children.

Pushing in closer, her heart racing,
adrenaline pulsing in her veins,
emotions rendering her speech unable;
she could only reach out to touch him.
Desperately, humbly, she sank down and
touched the hem of his garment.

A healing of wholeness coursed
through-out her body and spirit.
Feeling drawn upon by faith, the man
turned to see who had received of him,
and looked into her face…

She saw love of love itself;
At once she knew the gift,
it dwelt in Him and was Him.

6/2001

10/06/2001

Posted on 10/06/2001
Copyright © 2024 Audrey M Scott