All I could do
When others departed
Stop and consider
What just had been done
Look at my skin
Once ravaged and pitted
Look at my fingers
(I’d lost more than one)
“Leper” they called me
And fled from my presence
“Leper” the stigma
Of sad weeping shell
Lonely the life
Deemed God’s hot displeasure
Friendless and homeless
My own private hell
Jesus had seen us
All ten in our sad plight
Sent to the priests
To declare all things healed
Cleansed just like babes
From a dreadful contagion
Nine still in darkness
To one Grace revealed
How could I not thank
The calm Galilean
Sharing a kindness
That opened my soul
Joyful in transport
I cling to His next words:
“Happy for you friend
Now every whit whole.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem