Incarnation

Having been so long untouched, I’d become a child beyond touch and unclean. So, when suffocatingly roused from a nightmare of death to unbreathable silence in an oxygen tent, I cried afraid of dying alone. From somewhere (outside of all darkness) you appeared (starched-pinafored and perfumed a student nurse working nights after classes) bringer of light restorer of air redeemer. At your spell, cool air whispered around us, and you held me despite my uncleanness (and I felt your heart beating). My tears eased a path for breath, your fingers gentled my face, and I fell back into sleep at peace. I have forgotten your name but I remember your touch and the silver nitrate stain on your hand, a sky blue. If I believe in Mercy it’s only because of this: You fearlessly touched one whom others would not and if God has a face it is yours.