Poetry Friday

Thou seest the multitude thronging thee,
and sayest thou, "Who touched me?"

I, the one with such great shame
Spent all I had - still suffered same -
But when I had but heard of you
Knew that it was surely true.

I pressed in tho' others pushed out
Knowing that, without a doubt
If I could get through and touch thy hem
I would be made whole again.

Here I am upon my knee
Knowing what was done in me.
The fount of blood that was so strong
No physician could cure - twelve years long.
Unclean, unclean - no one dare to touch
But Jesus, I longed for you so much.

Daughter, thy faith had made thee whole.
My power was released and so
Go in peace and of good cheer -
Different is touching than being near.

-Michele Jahncke