How I wish I had healing hands-
I feel your pain palpably as you sit across from me,
radiating loneliness, trauma, and suffering.
If only I could reach over and touch you on the shoulder and
heal you, make it all better, make it go away-
I would gladly sacrifice of myself if only a physical sacrifice of energy would do.
How I wish I could show you how much I care-
if only I could reach over and touch you on the shoulder
and allow you to feel the compassion pouring out of me-
compassion that could heal.
Instead I sit here and feel the intensity of your sorrow
and the intensity of the energy within me,
restlessly seeking an outlet to give you the strength you need-
if only for a science fiction moment, where you could understand not only my compassion,
but the compassion of Christ-
that it would be clear to you, without cumbersome words,
what you must do to be relieved.
Lord, is it so wrong to ask that I could heal them with touch, the way your son did?
Give me the power to heal.