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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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