Feb. 27–Mar. 5 ❘ Paralyzed
Paralyzed
Maybe you’ve never decayed
like a leper thrown to the desert,
or bled inside for years
like an unclean woman in hiding.
Maybe you’ve never reached your whole life
for God’s blessing with withered hand—
but I know some kind of pain holds you close.
Like you, I was desperate.
I couldn’t walk to Peter’s house,
press through crowds, climb walls,
pry up roof tiles. I couldn’t
lower myself into Messiah’s lap.
Friends had to haul me bodily,
heave me to the brink of salvation.
And when I emerged,
buoyant as birdsong,
all burdens shed but bedroll,
my friends met me again.
We walked home together,
breathless as we laughed and talked
of old springs that poured from split rock
and bread that used to drop from heaven
like honey.
To read more of my poetry, visit www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry.
For questions, comments, or concerns, contact me at merrijane.rice@gmail.com.
