Healed and Free

Yesterday I posted about Sunday’s message and the woman whose flow of blood was healed by one touch of Jesus’ cloak. As I listened to the sermon, I wrote the following poem and wanted to share it with you.

Alone and full of fear,
She cam searching anyway,
Trembling with buried hope,
She tracked the crowd that day.
Pushing to the center,
She reached out her hand,
Seeking healing with a touch,
Of this mysterious, gentle man.
As her hand grazed his cloak,
Her heart leapt within,
For indeed the flow was stopped,
She was finally whole again!
Relief flooded her soul,
Then she froze in sudden fright,
“Who touched me?” He demanded.
Forcing her into the light.
Tucking her head she bowed,
With a whisper she confessed,
“It was I whom you healed…”
As all around the people pressed.
“Daughter,” Jesus said,
As with love he took her hand,
“Your faith has made you whole,
Pure and lovely you now stand.
For I can heal your deepest wound.
No longer unclean you’ll be,
Go in peace my precious child.
Today, you’ve been set free.”

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