He Healed Them

He Healed Them

(“Moving away from there, Jesus went along the sea of Galilee, climbed the hill and sat there.” Matthew 15:29)

We bring limps and aching, words we wasted,
fantastic thunder we thought was ours for the taking.
We bring our latest, our untasted seasons flavorless
for all our hot explanations.

We bring our tears and breaking, feuds we blooded,
brothers and sisters flooded by our dogma, our determination
to force the joints into place before You could touch them true.

We bring our sight and blindness, knots we tightened,
abrasive blindfolds we put over pretenses of kindness.
We bring our boil or freeze; we bring our luxury and ease,
We bring cuts and sharp; we bring dreary, we bring dull,
We bring our unfinished; we bring our diminished
proofs signed by the same ghosts You’ve named from
the beginning.

We bring our ending, we bring up the rear,
we bring up the past, we ring up the clear notes
we hope prove us innocent at last.

Who do You see, on the hill, under the tree,
as we elbow our way, morning to finally?

Who do you heal but the sick and maimed,
and why do we submit certificates of health: claimed, certified, insane.

We bring our innocence, broken at last;
we bring our signature, erased at last;
we bring our only hope, emptied at last.

And at last as first Your touch is birth and life,
we bring our claims and bury them,
our boasts and surrender them,
newborns breathing as first.