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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.

Copyright © Roxanne Andorfer

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