Poem March 24, 1986 Issue

The day I left the porch

NORMAN GARY BLEICHMAN

I was sitting by the pool of Bethesda,
feeling sorry for myself—
ruminating over my longtime condition.

Financially crippled,
professionally paralyzed,
I endured another day waiting for the stirring of the waters,
hoping the currents of prosperity would flow in my direction.

Pity, that I had no one to carry me on his payroll,
to offer me a job that would end my suffering.
Oh, there had been prospects,
but someone else, it seemed, always got there ahead of me.

Then, as I lay on my bed of self-condemnation and bitterness,
a stranger suddenly appeared across the pool:
Will you be made whole? he asked.
I thought to myself, Silly question ....
Just get me down to the pool and I'll be fine.

His look was compassionate, Christlike.
It seemed to say, Wholeness has nothing to do
with the water or a job or money.
Wholeness is your unchanging state of perfection,
your irrevocable inheritance from God.

Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. John 5:8 .

His words were irresistible, penetrating.
They lifted me up ... in my own eyes,
stripped off my self-made bonds,
and propelled me from the porch forever.

NORMAN GARY BLEICHMAN

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