Twelve years is a long time to suffer from bleeding,
No doctor could help give me what I was needing.
Ostracised from society, kept at arms length,
Not feeling like an outcast took all of my strength.
Then I heard that Yeshua was coming my way,
I merge with the crowd as they go down the walkway.
I reach out and touch the tzittzit on His cloak's hem,
At that moment, He stops and He looks down at them.
The crowd looks bewildered as He says, "Who touched Me?"
I realise I'm healed, and from my bleeding, I'm free.
I timidly come forward and call out to Him,
"It was just me, Rabbi," my eyes fill to the brim.
So thankful, am I, to be free of my disease,
I fall at His feet and worship Him on my knees.
He bends down to take my hand, I look in His eyes,
He looks at me with love as He helps me arise.
Daughter, your faith has cured you, go in peace, be healed,
Through those words, my eternal destiny was sealed.
The Rabbi healed me, body, soul, spirit and mind,
A more loving Saviour, you'd be hard pressed to find.
This poem was a finalist in the November 2020 poetry contest