Poem: 18 Years

Siezed and frozen, not in carbonite, 

Kids are now voting age, advanced stage,

And I sit alone in this cage,

A body of rage,immobile, 

inconceivable, irrevocable,

Or so I have resigned myself

This crooked life cannot be made straight. And no one can feel this awful weight.

I hate it. This life.

They say he teaches truth and changes lives, proclaims righteousness and even-gasp-heals.

I've heard it before but still I will rise, 

not fully of course, 

and I will make the long journey down these stairs, through my door

Out into the streets, the whispers and stares, 

They never cease. Like I did anything to deserve this disease, 

and I have almost forgotten my longing to just get this off of me, please, God!

Stiff and still and stalwart, steadily I shuffle on Shabbat, 

and find a seat, near the door, first one I see, 

the ache gets worse when I do anything. 

All that effort and I just want to go home, and lie down.

I'm here but I've forgotten how to hope.

Suddenly I feel a different stare, sublime and subtle somehow, but He is looking right at me. He takes a knee, reaches out and touches me

And whispers gently

"You are free." 

I, it...feels...

...weightless, effortless, lifting up my spirit.

I. Stand. Up.

Addendum:

I can't even hear the noise that follows. I can stand and dance and feel like God hasn't given up on me.

Don't heal on the sabbath? After 18 years, Sabbath rest has finally come to me, praise God(thank you, Jesus) I am free.

Luke 13:10-17