A caregiver in motion
he travels the countryside,
stoically healing
without much emotion
(or at least the story goes).
He has seen death, blindness, leprosy, demons -
blood that didn’t stop flowing.
Yet he was never really moved
until him.
That man somehow connected to him,
connected enough so he could say
from miles away,
he is dead, not sleeping.
He arrives too late.
But they all believe,
really believe that he
can wake him.
And this is what he wanted
Isn’t it?
To be known as the man,
the man who can heal
So they all will know
that he is -
The One.
Tears fall around.
And he looks down on
hands that had lifted paralysis away,
hands that had changed water into wine,
hands that had opened the eyes of the blind.
And he realizes that it does not matter
if they see - The One.
He simply knows he loves him.
And he weeps.
His tears are for him,
Not for them.
And they move his heart
from inside his robe -
to his death clothes.
And he no longer cares
if they believe or not.
He just wants to heal
to heal
and make the dead man walk.
