He Touched Me
I Sat Alone in My Despair,
All Reason for Living Gone,
When a Stranger Sat Beside Me,
with a Beard and Hair Too Long.
I Was Soon Absorbed in Misery Again,
Not Knowing That I Cried.
The Tears Dripped off My Chin
and I Wished I Could Have Died.
His Voice Was Kind and Gentle,
So I Felt No Need to Flee.
He Asked Me What Was Wrong,
to Share May Set Me Free.
I Said, "Walk a Mile in My Shoes
and Feel this Unbearable Pain.
Face All the Problems I Have,
and Feel the Weight of My Shame."
He Said My Troubles Would Go Away
as the Wind Blows Away the Sands,
Then a Wondrous Joy Swept Through Me,
as He Touched Me with Nail Scarred Hands.
Connie Moore
09/29/96
Copyright © Connie Moore | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment