A POEM ON THE WOMAN WITH THE ISSUE…

THE DOCTOR WHO KNEW MY NAME

Mother said it was a curse,
Father said; “stay home and make certain you aren’t seen by anyone.”
Home was my companion, I knew every stain and crack on those four walls.
I was constantly clothed with thick black garments, it was my yearly vogue.

“Fix me please!” I cried to the millionth physician I had seen since my condition.
“I’m sorry Miss. There’s nothing I can do. He said with a sigh and head bowed. You should have come sooner.”
So I was going to live with this curse all my life? I will never have a normal life or wear normal clothes? You mean I’ll never be seen in public like every other person?
What did I ever do to deserve this wicked burden?

I weighed so little for my age
The hemorrhage had drained my existence
Twelve years of incessant, painful, smelly flow
I wore rags upon rags underneath, to keep me from spilling.
Hahaha! Those days and nights I just sat over a bucket and cried till my tears dried.
Twelve years of giving all I had for a cure, and gaining nothing in return.

I heard of Him and all that He did
I heard He made people well when He touched them.
They gathered daily to hear Him speak
Who He was, I didn’t know.
And how would I find out, when Father had banned me from being seen!

I want to be well!
I want this man to make me well! And if I’m not worthy to be seen by him, then I can at least touch his clothes… he won’t see me, I’ll just steal my way through and no one will ever notice.

I struggled through the crowd that gathered, probably for the same purpose for which I came. I pressed and pushed until I got close to Him.
That had to be Him, He was calm amidst the bustling crowd, and everyone gathered around Him.
I touched the end of His cloth, and I felt an instant halt to the flow of blood within me… it has really stopped!

I was still in my thoughts and about to run home to check for sure, when He called out; “who touched me?”
Oh no! Oh no! He noticed… now everyone will see me!
I was frightened but I owned up. I told Him what I did.

He looked at me with that same calm I saw before I touched his cloth.
He said to me; “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, you are healed of your disease.”

I ran,
I walked briskly…confident for the first time!
I had met the healer, and He healed me.
My name is Daughter, that’s what He called me.

Mark 5:25-34

Paula Young
Tuesday, Nov. 8, 2016

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