Poem March 13, 2006 Issue

Lame man, believing

Darren Stone

There have been rumors at the temple
of the Master coming here; they say
he is the son of God, who helps the sick,
that he could even heal someone like me
born only to a life of begging, bowing
"Thank you, sir," dependent on sad charity.

At least a rumor is relief from tedium
and hunger, but such bold assertions—
could they possibly be so?
Of course I am acquainted with the tides
of prayer. Have I not said it is our God
who guides the fishing boats, brings
summer wheat to harvest, tends each
shepherd with his flock?

Now you have come into our temple on this
ordinary day, Rabboni, and I reach
to touch your hand.
You speak to me.
I feel as if the world
is new, God's presence
real. My heart leaps up,
the promises are true—
I stand and walk.

—Darren Stone

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