Descending, on ropes

After Mark 2:1-12 

On my bedding they lower me

into the room of noise and

smoke and the small of bodies

densely packed together.

Too many people inside,

too many crowding the door

for a chance to see or touch

or be touched by the healer.

My friends, the faithful four,

make a hole in the roof,

startling those below as

debris falls, and lower me

on ropes, a descent into

noise and smoke and

smell. The noise abates,

suddenly, as they point 

and watch me descend.

My eyes search the room

for him, our eyes meet, 

and he says, first, that

my sins are forgiven. He

looks around the room,

reading the hearts, and 

says, second, rise, take 

my bedding, and go home.

I stand. I take my bed.

I walk.

 

Photograph by Alejandro Luengo via Unsplash. Used with permission.