He Touched Me

Do you know what it is like to be an untouchable? To be so filthy and disgusting That people shrink away from you Do you know how it corrodes your soul To see how the stench that follows your rotting flesh Contorts people’s faces in disgust Even from miles away? I tell you, you die a thousand deaths Each time you see them cover their faces To protect themselves from the putrid air That surrounds you And they scurry away Revolted by your very shadow It doesn’t help that you have to scream “Unclean, Unclean” everywhere you go It doesn’t help that daily you have to find your food Left behind an agreed upon boulder It doesn’t help when you taste the bread Your wife has baked with loving hands Knowing that the salt of her tears is mixed in the dough That nourishes your rotting body It doesn’t help when visions of her beauty and healthy body Ravage your mind…for she has become untouchable to you It doesn’t help when all you remember are the last words Your crying son sobs into her apron…. “Why does daddy have to leave?” And you quietly slink away…unable even to hold him One last time Being a leper Is the nightmare you can’t easily shed How unlike your body that easily sheds Your fingers…one by one And then you hear of a Healer A Nazarene A carpenter turned preacher Who mingles with prostitutes With tax collectors Society’s untouchables Outcasts like you and you think… Maybe…just maybe I tell you this…. All my yesterdays and all my tomorrows Were bound in the moment I stood before him His disciples stepped back I saw a woman get sick At the sight of me And before I knew it, the words tumbled out “Lord, if you are willing…..you can make me clean.” I was a crumpled ball on the ground A discarded piece of human waste Not daring to look up My half eaten face covered Thoughts of my wife, my boy swimming in my head And pouring out of my eyes in the form of tears And then for the first time since I was banished to the outskirts of the city For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime I felt the touch of another human hand His hand was on my shoulder His hand was on MY shoulder The refuse of humanity On ME! Ah…I had forgotten how good it felt to be touched It was a gentle touch A touch of love A touch of healing “I am willing, be clean.” I heard whispered in my ear The warmth of the touch The nearness of the voice Were enough to heal my soul What more could I ask for? And yet….I felt something else New life coursed through my veins A wave of energy Started from the souls of my feet Revitalizing every cell as it rushed up to my dazed head Bursting into a clarity of vision I had not known I looked at my hands Yes, these were MY hands The hands that she had loved to hold against her face The hands that my son had clung to when he was afraid The hands of a workman Young, strong capable hands There was silence As they all witness my rebirth Finally, I looked up to see The most compassionate face That I had ever seen in my life I saw tears running down His face And yet, His smile rivaled the sun And the next thing I knew I was in His embrace Whole…body and soul Whole All because He touched me. Eileen Manassian Ghali