How to make sense of all the years before he took your hand and pulled you to your feet? The helplessness you felt there in the dust with legs that wouldn’t work, the fleeting hopes of healing crushed as others trampled past and you were left behind again. The sense of hopelessness. Another sun would set and leave you just as lame as when it rose. But you had known, when he looked in your eyes that he had seen you. Not a single day was sad enough or small enough to slip unnoticed past that steady gaze of love in which (you found) you always had been held.
I've missed your poems! I love your takes on Biblical accounts - in both your poetry and accompanying prose. Thank you for sharing them.