Mark 8:22-25
Loud crowd brought me to You
Said to be a miracle maker
They meant well
Only did not notice
The fragile state of my inner self
Bearing the weight of my idle hands
And judgement of gods and men
You took me by the hand
And away from the town you led me
In no hurry You enjoyed the walk
Being gentle because I was frail
We stopped
And on my eyelids
I felt the touch of Your hand
And the warm spittle
“What can you see?”
“Not much. I think people
But they look like trees”
The crowd would have been disappointed
By the partial miracle
Yet in me time stood still
As You led me out of
Years of darkness spent
In helplessness and shame
And when my vision was clear
In your eyes I saw
The reflection
Of my dignity