Some days in my sore feet I find the dust
of your Judean hills; I feel its stones.
In my hunger, or my trembling,
your forty days in the desert.
I see in the mirror right there in my bald spot
the scars of your thorns.
There in my x-ray is your pierced side,
the holes in my hands and feet.
In my eyes, when I dare, your seeing
the invisible woman, the troubled man.
In my hands your power to heal,
in my bones your trust in our Abba.
Sometimes for a moment, a moment,
I disappear in you, and am whole.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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