Jairus, Running, Hoping
Our little girl was almost gone.
The fever gripped her like a vise.
The eyes attending elsewhere, wan,
The fragile hands as cold as ice.
And I as useless as a child.
Her mother stroking soft the brow.
And something hidden, wanton, wild
Was pressing, choking sweetness now.
I fled the room, a flick'ring thought
Arrested mind and sinking heart.
The Nazarene whom many sought
Could he be called, and life impart?
The doors rushed by as I made haste.
This rabbi now a racing steed.
A father with no time to waste.
Would Jesus rally to our need?
He hears my plea, yet looks so calm,
And joins me in the homeward trek.
Has he the skill? Has he the balm?
To save our lives from total wreck?
But friends advise with words I dread,
To trouble not the Master more.
My little flower, already dead.
My wife distraught upon the floor.
Yet still he comes, quite undeterred,
And takes her hand, and softly sighs
Her little spirit hears the word.
The call of life, 'Sweet maid arise.'
Doug Blair's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Jairus, Running, Hoping by Doug Blair )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
- mai venn
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)
(15 April 1931)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Constantine P. Cavafy
(29 April 1863 – 29 April 1933)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
- After a Death , Tomas Tranströmer
- Good Morrow, John Donne
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe